


Face to Face in the Broad Daylight

by snowbellewells



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Werewolf, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-01
Updated: 2020-02-14
Packaged: 2020-06-02 11:40:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 33,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19440730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snowbellewells/pseuds/snowbellewells
Summary: (Here we have a sequel to my werewolf, alternate season two and beyond fic from last year’s CSSNS. You probably want to read that story "Run to Me (in the Dead of Night)" first, or it might be a bit confusing in places. This second story in the same universe partially exists just because I wanted to revisit these couples and enjoy a bit more of their fluffy happily ever afters. However, we may also see them get into some new surprises and challenges, and of course we need to see if Rumplestiltskin is still under control or back to his usual scheming and plotting. I hope you will enjoy.  I’m so glad to be part of this event again, and this is just the opening chapter. I hope to update once a week until it’s finished.)





	1. prologue: altogether in one place

**Author's Note:**

> (Here we have a sequel to my werewolf, alternate season two and beyond fic from last year’s CSSNS. You probably want to read that story "Run to Me (in the Dead of Night)" first, or it might be a bit confusing in places. This second story in the same universe partially exists just because I wanted to revisit these couples and enjoy a bit more of their fluffy happily ever afters. However, we may also see them get into some new surprises and challenges, and of course we need to see if Rumplestiltskin is still under control or back to his usual scheming and plotting. I hope you will enjoy. I’m so glad to be part of this event again, and this is just the opening chapter. I hope to update once a week until it’s finished.)

~~ prologue: altogether in one place

As a cooling breeze blew in off the water of the harbor to combat the bright heat of an early May afternoon, Killian Jones smiled easily, enjoying the trace of air over his neck and ruffling his dark hair as he headed back up the street from the docks toward the center of town. It was a perfect day for the celebration he was on his way to attend, planning to meet Emma and Henry at the pretty little two bedroom cottage not far from the harbor that they moved into some weeks past, before the three of them walked the rest of the way to Granny’s together. The rest of their family and several friends were doubtless already gathering at the diner’s outdoor tables for the planned picnic. It was Mother’s Day, and the first which Emma would be able to spend with her mother, and with her boy as well. Killian smiled fondly at the tentative joy mixed with nervous anticipation on his love’s face as they’d spoken of it laying side-by-side that very morning. His heart had warmed right along with dawn’s first rays peeking through the curtains, glad that Emma could have her loved ones surrounding her, as she always should have. Though his own mother had been gone so long that he only retained the barest memories of a gentle voice singing to him and the twinkle in kind, loving eyes, he still felt not a fiber of his being to be jealous or begrudging of the wealth of love and belonging his lady had found. Emma deserved it all, and more besides.

It helped, he admitted to himself as he neared the front walk, their yard surrounded by white picket fence that he could now see Emma leaning on casually with Henry at her side, that he too had been welcomed into the fold gladly. With the wolf born inside him, his horribly checkered and painful history, and how long he had wandered alone in the world, Killian could never have imagined being accepted as a part of something so good, nor feeling that he mattered to others again. Despite his stunned disbelief, however, he could only continue to be grateful.

As he drew nearer, Henry caught sight of him and waved enthusiastically, a wide grin stretching across his face. “Hey, Killian!” the youth called out. “Are you ready for this?”

“Aye, lad, of course,” he answered with a chuckle, smiling to Emma as well, his heart swelling still further at the blush which rose on her cheeks as he waggled his eyebrows playfully. He turned his attention back to Henry quickly, not wanting the young man to feel dismissed, but instead leaning forward to whisper secretively to Henry, “We wouldn’t want to miss your grandma’s famed cherry chess pie, now would we?”

Henry agreed emphatically with Killian’s winking query, then scampered on ahead of them as Killian pulled Emma into a quick embrace while she stretched up to press a chaste kiss to his lips before they joined hands and followed her son the rest of the way to Granny’s before they were late.

Not many minutes later they were turning into the front seating area of the diner, entering under the arch and being greeted from all sides by family and friends. Ruby bounded over to gleefully wrap Emma in an exuberant hug, whispering in his love’s ear that she wanted to hear what they’d been up to at the new house in a blatant enough way to have the blond blushing once again. Killian followed Henry’s urging over to his grandparents’ table, shaking David’s hand and easing into conversation with Emma’s father thankfully.

He liked the people gathered around him very much, but so often in the past he had kept to the shadows, on the outskirts of society, either due to prejudice and ostracism or his own attempts to insure others’ safety from the beast within him. Having at last found his home in Storybrooke, and also a peace within himself that he had rarely known, Killian felt as stable as he had ever been in both parts of himself. His wolf had room and freedom to run, even a pack of sorts with Ruby and Graham nearby, and he rarely feared the howling need to break free he had sought to hide or contain in his youth and throughout his years of bitter, aimless wandering. All that being true, he still sometimes preferred to ease into larger groups one person at a time. Once Emma’s slightly overprotective and traditional father had gotten to know him, Killian found the man quite easy to talk to and good company, so he naturally went to speak with him first.

Their friendship hadn’t taken long to develop once things had settled down around the holidays, some six months ago, after Regina, Cora, and Rumplestiltskin’s defeat. Both David and Killian served as reinforcements to the sheriff’s department when needed (though in sleepy, calm Storybrooke they rarely were) and so had spent many long afternoons when there were no calls sharing long chats, wadded up paper ball free throw contests in the desk trash cans, endless one-upping games of darts, and - if they grew truly desperate - filing of the somehow never ending stacks of paperwork. Their little town had been free of most trouble beyond cats in trees and neighboring fairy tale characters’ squabbles since Thanksgiving. None of them had forgotten that Gold was still simmering impotently in his shop (surely wanting revenge, but hands tied by the fact that his dagger forbade it, thanks to Emma’s brilliance). In fact, the citizens were enjoying an everyday normality most of them had never been able to experience before - in either this realm or the Enchanted Forest.

So, though there was often hardly enough work to keep one person busy, Graham had remained Sheriff, and kept Emma on as his deputy. Killian’s eyes found his sandy-haired fellow wolf amidst the happy crowd of partygoers, attentively leaning to whisper something in Belle’s ear where she sat talking to Granny Lucas herself, along with Nova, Leroy, Bashful, and Doc. The Sheriff was clearly happy to watch over his girlfriend, glad just to see her in high spirits, having brought her a drink and standing behind her chair to listen and look on. Graham had always been a good and competent lawman, but now that he was completely free to act of his own will and as he saw fit, it became even more clear just how kind, compassionate, and worthy a man he was. He no longer had to glance over his shoulder at each turn, fearing retribution for his choices. The townspeople liked and trusted him even more than they had before, seeing how dedicated he was to their causes and thorough in handling problems immediately and lawfully for the good of all to the best of his ability.

Watching just a moment longer, Killian saw Belle pause in her conversation, looking up over her shoulder at Graham with an adoring expression in her eyes, resting her hand over his where he had placed it on her shoulder. Something passed between them wordlessly, so slight that it went unnoticed by most around them, but to Kilian’s honed and heightened senses, it sent almost a frisson of intense feeling all the way across the space to where he stood. He didn’t know what it meant, but he found himself more than a little curious, and happy for his friends whatever the cause of their joy.

His attention was drawn back to his own immediate circle when David threw his head back in a booming burst of laughter as Henry finished relating how Killian had recently taken he, his mom, and his friends Grace, Nicholas and Ava out fishing and swimming on the Jolly. It wasn’t the first time Killian had dropped anchor in the harbor where the preteens could dive off the bow and bob in the waves to cool off while he and Emma sat in the sun watching over them and talking, but what had gotten such a reaction from his grandpa was the mental image of Ava’s disastrous practice at casting and somehow catching her hook in Grace’s hair. The ensuing noisy melee had caused quite a commotion until they’d gotten Grace free from the painful tangle, reassured Ava that they all knew it was an accident and gotten back to catching fish rather than each other.

As the afternoon wore on, Killian relaxed into the atmosphere of easy camaraderie around him, graciously complimenting his hostess on the lightness of her dinner rolls and the fine quality of her rum - to which he earned a sniff of begrudging thanks but also a sidelong smile. He exchanged a few words with Belle on the last book she had recommended to him and what he thought of it so far, and though she carried an obvious glow of satisfaction and practically radiated good humor, he was no closer to the reason that it seemed so especially prominent today, even after conversing with her. He exchanged pleasantries with Graham, and let Henry drag him into a ridiculous game of Pin the Tail on the Donkey that Snow had organized to hilarious results with the assorted dwarves’ poor aim and inebriated states by that hour of the waning day.

Despite what else he was doing however, his eyes were continually drawn back to Emma wherever she was. There was the simple fact that he couldn’t help but marvel at her beauty, for one thing. Her golden hair stood out like a beacon in any gathering, this one no exception, and the very sight of those flowing waves cascading down her back against the red leather of her favorite jacket made his hand itch to brush through its silky softness. Her long, lean form, her throaty chuckle, and the sparkle in her jade green eyes all made hunger rise in him that had him aching to pull her out of the party and into the first empty room he could find. A long life of practice made him able to rein in his desires, but it certainly didn’t slake them in the least.

He remembered too that it was nearing the full moon, which made all his more canine traits closer to the surface. As intensely protective as he would have been anyway, because he loved her, the animal instinct within demanded he be aware of his mate and her safety at all times. Especially when they were out in the open and not alone, whether or not those with them were friends and the gathering innocent. There was possessiveness as well that he could contain, but not vanquish completely. Between those two impulses warring inside his average human faćade, Killian was rather proud of himself for managing to eventually retreat to a corner table with his drink, lean back in a chair and observe the goings on around him with at least the air of calm.

Still, needless to say, he was relieved when the festivities did begin to break up an hour or so later. Many called out a friendly goodbye to him, and he waved back jovially to them. Some, like David, came over to say ‘good night’ and make plans for when they’d get together next. When Emma finally came up to him with an easy smile and an outstretched hand, asking him if he was ready to head home for the night with a teasing tilt of her head and playful “Captain?” he was on his feet in a moment. With Henry in tow, they headed back toward their house on the shore as the stars came out above.

A deep sense of satisfaction warmed Killian once again at the very idea that this could be his life, while Emma leaned into his side as they walked and Henry pointed out the various constellations that he had learned to recognize through Killian’s tutelage. It was more happiness than he once could have imagined having in his life on a regular basis. In a few days he would need to prepare for shifting about three nights in a row, as was his monthly due, but for tonight, he could sense it was still safely far enough off to take his time seeing the two most important people in his life home safely and enjoy that they saw him as one of their own.

Once they reached the front gate, Henry hurried on up the walk and into the house with a “See you tomorrow!” for his mom’s boyfriend. Alone at long last, Emma turned to him, her face tilted up to his with a devious glimmer in her expression. Only moments ago, he wouldn’t have imagined things could get much better, but when she ran her hands up his torso to rest on his chest and whispered invitingly, “Wanna come in for a nightcap, Sailor?” she blew his mind all over again. 

A couple of drinks, an entire bowl of popcorn and a movie later, they were cuddled together on the couch in Emma’s living room, making out like two teenagers. Killian didn’t leave his love’s arms again until the next day dawned. Slipping out to his boat before Henry could walk up and begin scavenging through the cupboards for his breakfast cereal, Killian stooped to place a kiss on Emma’s groggy forehead as she mumbled a sleepy farewell. No one else in the house was stirring as the former pirate headed away down the walk, and he was too cheerful and relaxed to be on his guard, so the eyes watching his every move from the shadows as he moved toward the docks, went unnoticed…

~~***~~***~~

Far removed from the cheerfulness and revelry of the rest of the town and their holiday celebrations, Mr. Gold was holed up in the dim, shrouded back room of his shop, scowling silently at a clouded orb with its contents swirling inside. He hadn’t bothered to unlock or open his shop doors today, not wanting to see the idiotic smiles of the townsfolk, nor to waste effort pasting on a smile and haggling to make sales that mattered little to him, all things considered. No, all that mattered now was possessing the one item which could free him of the Savior’s binding order stoppering his Dark One powers to set things right. He would be loosed of her interfering magical hold; it was merely a matter of tracing the artifact to its hiding place and summoning an accomplice he knew was powerful enough to aid him in the ritual needed to slip the noose of his Dagger’s control, and therefore Miss Swan’s meddling command.

All the pieces were in place; once the crystal showed him where his former compatriot could be found, he would set the ball rolling. He would make Belle see sense, return her to her place by his side, where she clearly belonged. That Sheriff who had dared to try taking his place in Belle’s affections would rue ever having his heart put back in his chest. And that wretched cur ...that wolf he had nearly finished off before - and the woman who had prevented it, who had the audacity to tangle with him and think she could defeat the Dark One - both of them would pay, once and for all.


	2. chapter one: the element of surprise

chapter one: the element of surprise

Sunlight slanted through the tall windows onto the long, wooden shelves crammed and stuffed full of books in all sizes, hard and soft covers, old and new, and onto the table where a petite sprite of a brunette sat at a long conference tabel with more volumes spread open around her where she jotted several notes in a pad at her elbow. The beams of sunlight bathed her in yellow glow, and golden highlights seemed to sparkle in the strands of her hair as it curled over her shoulder. She was intent on her work in this haven of her beloved stories, so enthralled in her own magical make-believe realm of tales that she didn’t even hear the soft footsteps padding through the aisles toward her, nor the soft chink of the front entrance clicking back into place from her visitor’s arrival.

He didn’t garner her attention in fact until he neared her side, a gentle whisper of her name on a soft, affectionate breath caused Belle to look up in surprise, an exclamation of startled pleasure on her face as her pretty lips formed an “O”.  
“Hello Lass,” Graham murmured warmly, leaning over to press his lips to her upturned mouth in greeting, neither one able to resist seeing the other without wanting to kiss them as well. Belle had spent so many years with a man who cared more for possessing her than actually spending his time with her or allowing her into his confidence. The luxury of loving someone not only open to her care and advice, but who needed her closeness and trust, thirsted for it as desperately and had looked for it as long as she herself had, was something Belle appreciated every day - never taking it in the least for granted.

“Hello yourself, Sweetie,” she answered, returning his kiss, and lifting a hand to stroke along his stubbled jaw with lingering fingers, reluctant to let the contact go.

For his part, a low hum in Graham’s throat, almost a rumbling, vibrated against her fingertips. The wolf inside was happy, turning to mush at her ministrations, puppy eyes and all. Even as their lips parted, he lingered to rub his nose along her cheek and nudge against her adoringly, a wordless signal of his devotion, chuffing almost as a wolf in the wild would to its mate upon returning from a journey or hunt.

“You asked me to meet you here,” the small town sheriff eventually prompted his girlfriend curiously, shuffling back just far enough to sit in the chair to her left. Even at that, he still reached forward to take Belle’s hand in his, twining their fingers and stroking hers with his thumb. “I’m always happy to see you, but… is something wrong?”

Belle looked at him for two, then three, searching moments, seeming to gather herself for a serious announcement. As if finally determining that she saw what she needed to in his face, she leaned toward him as well, bringing their joined hands to her chest. Graham realized then that she was blinking back emotion as she answered, “No, nothing’s wrong. Something is very, very right.”

Seeing him cock his head in puzzlement, she almost giggled joyfully at the truly canine trait before resuming her speech. She could see that he genuinely wasn’t sure what she wanted to tell him and didn’t want to leave him in the dark long enough to make him worry unduly. Graham had lived a far from simple or pleasant life, and snapped into fighting stance at a moment’s notice to protect her and the good life they had begun to build, as if still not certain after all he had suffered that something so precious could truly last. 

“Graham, calm down. It’s fine, I promise. At least I think it is… and, well, I h-hope you will too… I’m - I’m counting on it anyway…” Pausing only momentarily, Belle daintily caught her lower lip between her teeth in just one more slight moment of hesitation. Her wide, dark brown eyes fell to study their joined hands where she had clasped them close to her heart as she gathered the courage to continue.

However, even before that was necessary, Graham tugged gently, bringing the back of her palm up to his mouth, where his words brushed against her skin. “You needn’t worry, Belle. Whatever it is, you must know that I’m here for you… that I’ll understand.”

And with those words, the tiny seed of worry that her news might not be something he’d want, vanished like the dark clouds after a storm, melting away from where they had begun to constrict her throat and loosening her tongue at last. With a sure and steady gaze centered on his scruffily comforting face once more, she forged on with renewed confidence. “Well, it’s just that… for the last week or so I’ve felt a bit off - nothing serious!” she hurried to add, seeing the worry wrinkle his brow almost immediately. “Just not quite myself. I had a suspicion of what might be going on, but after a test and a visit to the doctor, I know for sure. Graham… I’m pregnant. We’re going to have a baby!”

His eyes, always so expressive and open windows to his thoughts, widened almost comically. He shook his head, seemingly stunned, and opened and closed his mouth several times before he could manage to speak, but when he did, she heard the depth of feeling quavering in his gravelly voice, blinking glassily to hold back tears of his own.

“We’re to be parents? Truly?” he finally whispered. Even as he spoke he was easing to the floor to kneel before her, still holding her hand, his other coming tentatively to rest on her stomach, still almost ginger with stunned disbelief. “I never imagined … never thought… that we could… that I… that we… And you’re glad of this? You’re sure you’re alright?”

She nodded fervently, now unable to voice her reply, so choked up was she by his reaction. Beaming up at Graham, she was blinking back her own silent tears and couldn’t even care that they were falling.

With his warm, strong hand covering her stomach still, he leaned to press a kiss there as well, making her tingle even through the fabric of her dress. Leaning to rest his cheek against her warmth, Belle found her own free hand combing through his wild curls in a soothing gesture, much as his obvious love and acceptance for the new life within her and his touch to her midsection had calmed her. She had never feared for a second that he would abandon her, but she hadn’t been sure how he would react to the idea of fathering a child. Graham had been alone all of his life until Ruby had found him in the woods and she and her Granny had taken him in. He had never known his own parents, never felt a mother’s caress or heard her sing him a lullaby nor been bounced on his father’s knee. His closest siblings were literally wild animals; ‘raised by wolves’ was more than a mere expression in her beloved’s upbringing. The fact that he wanted this little one, this blessing that would forever link them, that they would have a chance to raise him or her differently than they had been, to care for and protect, making them a family forever, meant everything to her.

When he did at last lean back again to look up at her fondly, Belle saw the hope in his eyes, making them even brighter and more lovely than she had always thought them. Rarely had she seen such uncomplicated, untainted hope in his face as she glimpsed in that moment, her heart fairly overflowing. “And you’re happy, Sweetheart? This is what you want?”

“Absolutely,” she assured, cradling his face in her hands. “There is little I could imagine wanting more. A baby… with you… it’s almost too wonderful to believe.”

He nodded his agreement, a wide, crooked smile breaking across his face with the power of a beam of sunshine. “It’s almost like a miracle,” he concurred. “A child… a pup… of our own.”

Belle nodded once more, “That is why I wanted to meet you here,” she acknowledged with a tilt of her head to her gathered research materials and notes. “I’ve been trying to find out what I can about werewolf-human couples and childbearing. We ought to know if a child of ours would have your dual nature and abilities, if there are many risks to such a child being carried by a human mother… those sorts of things.”

Graham’s forehead creased with worry for her almost immediately. “What did you find?”

“Not much, honestly,” Belle sighed, shaking her head in dismay. “I realize that it isn’t an everyday occurrence, but we aren’t even the only interspecies couple in our town. I would have thought there would be records of others somewhere, that there might be some trace or knowledge of offspring from such a union - at least in legends or lore, if nowhere else. We can’t be the first ones to ever become pregnant… can we?”

The former huntsman’s brow was furrowed in thought, and she hated to consider than he might already be regretting his excitement at the prospect of a child. She wanted the little one she already felt as a part of her, human infant or wolf pup, however they decided to refer to it. Even after a mere day knowing of its existence, she found she was willing to defend its life fiercely with her every breath, every bit its mother. Graham’s clouded aspect didn’t fully clear, but his voice remained calm as he answered her query. “I wouldn’t have believed so - as you say, in a town full of werewolves, fairies, dwarves, and the like, I had almost let myself believe our coming together wasn’t all that peculiar…”

She was already beginning to shake her head against whatever he said next, sensing his hesitation, his fear for her safety, and that lingering blend of self-doubt and shame from the scars he bore, even before he got the words out. “No, Graham, it isn’t… don’t start thinking that! I don’t. Not even for a second.”

He leaned into the hand she was still pressing to his cheek, but he shook his head firmly, not willing to be completely dissuaded as he pressed his lips together before continuing, “But if you would be endangered, Belle… I couldn’t bear it. I would treasure beginning a family with you… for us to raise a little one together. But if carrying my child - a part supernatural child - puts you at risk, if it could cost your life… then I can’t help but worry. You’re the best, purest, most wonderful thing in my life. To lose you now… it’s unthinkable. No matter what we might gain. I’m sorry, my Heart, but it’s how I feel.”

Belle simply listened, knowing she couldn’t change his mind nor ease his fears. She would have to hold onto her faith for the both of them for a bit, but she could do that. Something inside told her this little one was going to be a gift, a miracle, and that she would be just fine and there to see it all unfold. Graham’s initial reaction gave her all she needed to know about her love wanting this new arrival just as much - it was only concern for her holding him back. Leaning forward, she rested her chin on his bowed head silently as they drew strength from each other in the hallowed quiet of the library’s walls. To her, her happily ever after had begun when Graham opened the door to her cell and set her free. Every moment they’d had together since had built on that promise, and this baby was one more thing she had once believed lost to her as a desire she would never see realized. If she needed to carry all the optimism for a time, then she would do so gladly - she held her biggest reason to do so in her arms, and an added reassurance was growing within her at every breath.

~~***~~***~~

The afternoon hours had proven rather long and tedious at the station for Emma. Graham had returned from a long lunch visit with Belle bearing a grilled cheese and onion ring order for her in thanks for covering while he did so, and they had chatted a bit as she ate, but something was clearly troubling him which hadn’t been weighing his shoulders that morning. Emma didn’t pry - that wasn’t their way - but she did watch her boss and friend as he retreated to his desk to “catch up on paperwork” and hoped he would let her help if need be. They had worked together long enough and come to trust each other well enough that she felt reason to hope he would share with her when he was ready, but in the meantime she hated to see him struggling. It had been wonderful to see him happy this last half year, when Emma knew he had spent so much of his life isolated, controlled, and lost.

Needless to say, when Killian had arrived at a few minutes after 3:00, wondering if she needed help with anything, or if she wanted company to ride with her as she made afternoon patrol rounds, Emma smiled at him gratefully, happy for any small diversion from the quiet bordering on monotony. Bidding Graham goodbye, she stood with the announcement that she was heading out on patrol, and Killian followed her quietly with a momentary greeting and wave to his friend. He obviously sensed Graham’s worry in the air as well though, and didn’t even attempt to pursue teasing or conversation beyond the quick ‘hello’.

Once they were settled into the department’s sturdy, if dated, car, Emma backed out into the street, moving slowly down Main and sent Killian a playfully devious smile. “Couldn’t go another hour without seeing me, hmm?” she teased, winking at the retired pirate beside her in the passenger seat. She was more than glad for the company and entertainment, but some small part of her felt the need to hold off declaring it immediately, trying to play just a little bit cool.

“Me?” her wolf man scoffed back, mock affront in his jocular counter. “It was you who jumped up like your seat was on fire and practically drug me out of there the moment I arrived with the offer of my accompaniment.”

Shaking her head, Emma snorted in feigned derision, attempting a haughty flick of her hair over her shoulder, as if his very insinuation was ludicrous, but she couldn’t keep up the unaffected façade for long; instead humor quickly got the best of her, and her frosty, unfazed expression melted in laughter, his deep chuckle rumbling right along with her giggles as she rested her right hand over his forearm where it lay atop the glove compartment when she finally tried to catch her breath. “Okay, Hot Stuff, you win,” she panted at last, eyes actually watering they had laughed so hard. As they reached the end of the street, she turned to make a loop past the school, the convent, and then to check the more deserted and less tended area of Storybrooke out by the old cannery.

Killian waggled his eyebrows with excessive flair as if needling her to say the words of her admission in full. “I win?” he prompted, “Why Swan, whatever do you mean?”

She huffed, though only really making a show of annoyance. “Of course I wanted to get you alone. Why wouldn’t I? A dashing alpha like you?” Even as she made her slightly embarrassing confession, Emma blinked her long lashes coquettishly, gazing up at him from under them for a moment, in a way she hoped was tempting.

Killian swallowed hard, and just like that, Emma knew she had turned the tables on him. He gave her a look every bit as seductive, practically singeing her skin as he murmured, “Easy there, Darling. I doubt you can handle it,” lowly against the shell of her ear. She shivered in reaction with no way to hide it.

For a moment, she had all she could do to bite back a moan at the wash of heat he sent cresting through her veins, press her thighs together against the lust that threatened to overtake her faculties, and simply keep the cruiser on the road. By the time she could see straight again without a haze of desire blurring her vision, they had passed the cannery and were now circling back around the outer edge of Storybrooke’s limits, headed toward the forest and the town line. For his part, Killian appeared quite pleased with himself, sitting quietly in the passenger seat, but with a smug smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. 

Emma knew the time to explain her more serious reasons for being so happy to see him that afternoon would come. If Graham didn’t confide in her, perhaps Killian could offer a listening ear and help him with whatever was troubling him. Of course, they needed to know and deal with it swiftly if the issue wasn’t merely personal but the matter of some new trouble brewing in town. Right now however, she just wanted to sneak a few more private moments with this man she has come to love - and want - so intensely. She had never been able to let go this fully in a relationship before, to give up her doubts and her need to be in control, to let someone else take the lead and trust they were worth following. She didn’t go to prom and then to the local makeout spot with a date, didn’t get to attend college and smuggle her boyfriend back into a cozily crowded dorm room with her scrunchie on the doorknob as a warning to stay out. Emma had never been free to enjoy the youthful abandon that most did, and though Killian had been similar and understood that sort of stolen youth as few others could, he also inspired a bit of it in her now, and she wanted to enjoy it for at least a little while longer.

It was quiet all the way out at the town line where she parked by the side of the road near the “Leaving Storybrooke” sign. With the branches of the forest trees hanging over the pavement, their shade made the spot seem dim and secluded, even in midafternoon. Turning in her seat to face Killian, Emma arched her bow and shot him a challenging look, unbuckling her seatbelt and scooting a bit nearer as she did it. Licking her lips salaciously, her eyes automatically fell to his toned chest and the dark hair smattered across it generously, practically taunting her with its luxuriant abundance. Once her eyes locked onto his deeply opened collar, Emma couldn’t tear her gaze away from the feast before her; one hand moving of its own accord to brush through the thickly curling hair on his chest, appreciating the solid, warm muscle below it as well, and slipping beneath the loose material of his shirt to trail along his pectoral. Her hungry eyes took in his nearly sculpted beauty, and she wondered - not for the first time - why Killian even bothered with buttoning his shirt at all. She spent an inordinate amount of time doing just as she was now, imagining ripping it open completely and sending buttons scattering everywhere.

Killian’s head fell back against the seat, eyes slipping closed as a sinfully deep groan left his lips in response to her wandering explorations. Emma bit her lip, knowing she was about to unman him even more completely, and yet, hardly caring, simply unable to resist the tempting image he made laid out before her. With one hand still planted on his chest, she let the other begin to work its way leisurely down toward his waistband, slipping her fingers teasingly beneath the tight denim as she worked her way to the button and zip.

Her boyfriend’s eyes snapped open at that, darkened with arousal that made her own pulse pound even more furiously. His hips bucked up toward her questing touch of their own accord, and a whine that sounded nearly as animal as it did human, escaped his throat, but he still managed to ask on a heaving breath, “Emma… are you sure? It’s the middle of the afternoon…”

Gazing down at him, Emma allowed the mischievous gleam in her green eyes to show him just how certain she was of what she was doing. As if to prove her point, she swung her leg over the center console and was already beginning to shuffle across to straddle his form in the passenger seat even as she nodded and answered, “Yes, but the whole town’s quiet. No one’s out here. It’s just you and me, Sailor,” in a low croon.

That last reminder seemed to be the final break in Killian’s tenuous control. His arms came around her, pulling her down on top of him fully and surging forward to kiss her with the same sort of fire that had already captured her. His hand was nearly fisted in her hair, drawing her head where he wished to kiss her more fully, and his hook traced over her curves, seeming to touch everywhere else at once.

Emma practically purred with satisfaction, hips rocking against his as they neared the point of no return, awkwardly close quarters and broad daylight long forgotten, when an inconvenient yet impossible to ignore sound broke into her consciousness. Heavy crashing noises approached through the woods nearby, moving quickly with no fear of noise or damage being left in its wake. She would almost swear the ground beneath them seemed to be quaking with the footfalls even before she heard the mournful howl of a wolf ring out on the breeze. Killian’s eyes were already riveted to the tree line, as if he had known what to expect from the first reverberation, and Emma’s gaze followed in time to see a large wolf break wildly from the forest, howling again and then bounding toward their car with purpose. The huge creature was nearly as tall as Killian when he shifted, but this one was more leggy and lean than her muscled mate - and where Killian’s wolf coat was startlingly black as night, this wolf was an exquisite near-white dusted with almost silvery grey accents across its back and haunches.

The look in the creature’s eyes though was what arrested Emma’s attention. Even before it reached the cruiser, she was throwing the door open, she and Killian scrambling out together to meet it. Just as she had seen numerous times with her love on full moon nights, there was still something compellingly human lingering in the lupine gaze as the wolf neared them, whining and circling, panting heavily, but refusing to sit or be still.

It motioned with its head as if asking them to follow, pawing the ground and then darting back toward the woods, only pausing to see if they would follow. Though Emma’s friend had never actually shown herself to them in shifter form, clarity suddenly came to Emma in a flash. “Ruby?” she whispered, awed and concerned at once. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

The wolf dipped its head, as though giving a nod of confirmation, but then shook itself as if banishing all other questions and made for the tree line once more with a pitiful rumbling moan in its throat.

Killian’s blue eyes met hers, clouded with worry instead of lust, their private interlude pushed aside in concern for their friend. He nodded tightly, the tense movement in his jaw flexing before they plunged into the forest side by side, following the werewolf who had taken off again, leading them toward whatever new danger had arrived.


	3. chapter two: lying in wait

~ chapter two: lying in wait

Though in wolf form Ruby could have loped away in seconds with her long legs and left them in the dust, she paced herself anxiously, clearly determined to lead them along with her further into the pathless woods. Emma didn’t know just what had happened; there were no sounds of battle or distress, Ruby didn’t appear injured, but she was clearly upset, as her low whines if they lagged behind her even slightly made clear. However, her lupine form couldn’t speak to explain, and so they simply had to follow to see for themselves and hope they were in time to help. Every so often, Ruby’s snout rose to deftly scent the air blowing through the dense trees, making sure she hadn’t lost her way, and Emma supposed that needing to be sure of her way back had to be why Ruby hadn’t transformed into her human self again yet. Well, that and the speed at which she could travel, Emma’s mind supplied ruefully as she huffed for air, pressed her hand against the stitch in her side and tried to keep going. Those tawny, golden eyes within the pointed, grey-flecked face searched hers pleadingly for a moment, though unnaturally beguiling, there was a very human urgency in their depths that pushed the two deputies just a little further. She was nearly at the end of her endurance; Emma sensed her lupine friend knew it too, but she gritted her teeth and kept putting one foot in front of the other.

Killian was fairing much better; his were-strength and endurance aiding him greatly, even if he didn’t possess the same speed as a man that he did as a wolf. Still, even he looked a bit winded and confused, possibly because he didn’t have the impetus Ruby did to reach their goal. Emma was just wondering that they didn’t have some sort of pack telepathy for communication as she might have thought, or if it just didn’t work since Killian hadn’t shifted, when they burst from the dense trees into a rough clearing of sorts and her heart leapt into her throat for an entirely different reason.

Just to their left, as Ruby skidded to a halt and threw back her head to release a mournful, chilling howl before finally dashing over to the large tree they were all staring at. Her clothes lay in a pile by the motionless form, sitting leaned up against the trunk as if the person had merely stopped there for a rest, except for the ugly reality of the rapidly blooming dark bruise at the unresponsive older woman’s temple and stretching down the side of her face, and the crossbow still clutched in her frozen hands ready to fight.

Ruby lowered to the ground, stretching and elongating so fluidly Emma felt that if she had blinked she would have missed her change into the leggy human bombshell she knew. This was a Ruby she’d never seen though, tears smeared down her cheeks along with her mascara, twigs caught in her long, red-streaked dark hair as she haphazardly threw on her clothes, all the while calling her Grandmother’s name.

“Granny, wake up!” she urged, placing her hand on the stout matron’s arm and shaking as much as she dared. “Please!”

Snapping into motion again, Emma hurried over to kneel at the diner owner’s other side. Granny Lucas was tough, having supported herself and her granddaughter alone for years once widowed, both in their homeland and there in Storybrooke; she wouldn’t have gone down without a fight, that much Emma knew for sure. Checking for a pulse, which she found easily - strong, if a bit more sluggish than she would have liked - she nodded to both her friend and her mate encouragingly before pulling out her phone to call for an ambulance, then Graham at the station, and her father at home. They were going to need all hands on deck if whatever sort of attacker had struck was still prowling in the forest.

Even as she repeatedly explained the situation over her cell, she could see Killian directing Ruby to gently ease her Granny away from the tree to lie flat and hopefully more comfortably, though they didn’t dare move her further without knowing what was wrong. Even as she hung up with her father, after assuring him they would be on guard, they they had things under control until backup arrived, she could hear Killian’s soothing lilt, speaking to Ruby in low tones, calming her from the shock of seeing her indomitable, tough guardian in such a state.

Emma turned her attention back to them fully, her calls completed, just in time to see Killian place his hands bracingly on his fellow wolf’s forearms, even as her now large brown eyes turned up to them plaintively and she squared her shoulders, bringing her sniffling under control. “Listen to me, Lass,” Killian was saying. “There’s no sign of a scuffle here besides your grandmother lying unconscious. You found her this way? You didn’t see anything?”

Ruby nodded forlornly, clutching her grandmother’s hand even as she met first Killian’s, and then Emma’s, eyes steadily. She was out here wild mushroom hunting - told me that was where was going this morning after the rush. We usually have a lull between breakfast and lunch when she runs a few errands. I got worried when she wasn’t back for the noon crush. Once things calmed down again, I decided maybe I ought to go looking. B-but she...she was already like this when I got here. I figured I could get back to town and help more quickly if I shifted, and well - you know the rest.”

Both of them listened wordlessly, not doubting their friend, but not sure what to make of the scene before them either. Someone - or something - had struck the Widow Lucas down, but had left little trace behind. The old bird would have left a dent of her own, no doubt, so why was there no sign of the skirmish, or the damage she was capable of inflicting with her formidable temper and bow? The ground was even and dry, not terrain that would have caused the woman to slip or fall easily on her own either. And that bruise on the side of her head looked awfully large and nasty to be from a simple fall. Yet, no blood, no tracks, no torn up earth gave them anything to lead them to the perpetrator of foul play. Something simply didn’t add up.

Killian’s blue eyes met Emma’s over Granny’s prone form, even as they heard the ambulance sirens wailing toward them from the road. They’d had a nice little break, but once again something evil had found its way to Storybrooke. Just what were they in for now?

~~***~~***~~

The woman in deep midnight blue stood looking placidly out over the lake, seeming as if nothing ruffled her gentle expression or pensive bearing in the slightest. The gathering dusk made her rather shrouded from the casual eye at a glance, quiet possibly how she intended it. Her dark, luxuriant hair, and pale complexion was further hidden by the cloak draped over her head and shoulders of the same indigo hue as her rather old-fashioned dress, a robe hanging all the way down to her silent, slippered feet. If one had noticed her at all, they would have quickly passed on without disturbing her placid reflection. Even at a glance, there seemed to be something forbidding, warning others to keep their distance and refrain from interrupting her contemplation of the still, deep waters.

When the darkness around her deepened into the shadows of full night, the mysterious woman still didn’t budge, clearly bothered neither by the absence of daylight nor the passage of time, patient to wait for her expected meeting. When the popping sound of the air at her back announced the sudden appearance of a magical being, the stranger never flinched, merely turned with an amused smirk and arched brow to her newly arrived compatriot.

“You haven’t changed a bit, have you?” she purred, taking a step forward without hesitation or concern. “Still making it clear you work for no other, on no time table but your own.” She came to stand face-to-face with the similarly dark-clothed newcomer, pausing in her speech as she looked the other up and down, before adding in a smugly pleased tone, “And yet, for all your power plays, I was the one called upon to help you.” She let out a titter of a laugh, eyes sparking in her falsely attractive heart-shaped face with a calculating mirth. “Isn’t that right, Dark One?”

For a moment, the moon overhead drifted free clear of the covering clouds and the thin, sharp face of Mr. Gold, Rumplestiltskin - the Dark One - was revealed in its eerie glow. His voice was soft as he leaned into his visitor’s space, until they were nearly brushing noses, the same sort of frighteningly playful malice laced through his own words as he reached out to pat her alabaster cheek with an uncomfortably gentle hand. “Come now, Dearie,” he admonished, tutting as he did it with condescension. “You know you wanted to prove yourself useful to me. You always have… Morgana.”

~~***~~***~~

That same night, Graham looked up from the phone call he was just ending with Ruby as Belle slipped through the door of his little cottage amidst the trees further inland at the other edge of the large woods surrounding Storybrooke. His adoptive sister had called to update him on Granny from the hospital, where they were keeping the older woman for observation. He had asked his love to come out to the more secluded spot for certain privacy as he tried to fill her in on the mysterious and disturbing events of the day. None of them had seen any further traces of whatever had given Granny the frightening knock on the head and resulting unconsciousness, but seeing as how Ruby had just informed him that the woman who’d taken them both in was now sitting up in her hospital bed haranguing nurses who urged her to keep still and demanding to know who was running the diner if they were both absent, Graham felt safely assured that Granny would soon be right as rain again. In fact, Ruby had exasperatedly related, in a tone that made Graham shake his head and chuckle at the picture it evoked, the woman hadn’t stopped shoving away her stilling hand and trying to yank out monitors and clamber out of bed until she’d convinced her that Snow and David had the business well in hand until closing, and that Ashley Hermann had volunteered to close her fledgling Mommy and Me daycare for the following morning to help Snow open and handle the breakfast rush.

He stood to greet Belle eagerly, glad to see her again and to have her there safe as well. A part of him had worried if it were smart to have her driving out to his place alone after the attack, but Belle was determined that she wanted to be kept in the loop and able to help if she could, and was not about to be coddled. “I had enough of that with Rumple,” she’d warned him tartly when he had offered to come and pick her up or to meet her before work the next morning. “He would always claim to be protecting me, doing what was best, when really all he needed was me out of the way and in the dark, so he could do his damage that caused the danger in the first place. I’m not made of glass, and I’m not going to shatter. I can help,” she’d finished bluntly.

And Graham really couldn’t argue with that. Still, he was infinitely relieved as he crossed the room to gather her into a tight embrace. Making sure the door was carefully barred and the curtains drawn over all the windows, he then just stood breathing in her clean, simple fragrance of chamomile tea, lilac soap, and the ever-present hint of old book pages where his nose was buried in her hair, swaying gently from side to side. Possibly he was holding on a bit tightly, he reflected after a few minutes while neither of them spoke, merely leaned into each other and drank in the other’s warmth. Reluctantly, he released Belle just long enough to take her hand and lead her over to the large, overstuffed chair in the corner by the fireplace and then gently pulled her down to sit with him, curled up half in his lap.

Giggling lightly, Belle brushed back a few errant honey-colored curls off his forehead and playfully teased, “Missed me, did you?” She bit her lower lip delicately afterwards, tracing fingers down his face to rest her hand on his shoulder, as if not wanting to break contract any more than he.

Offering a crooked smile and nod at his own expense, Graham still spoke with full sincerity when he answered, “You know that I did.”

Both of them settled more comfortably into the wide seat, wrapped up in each other and neither one feeling any desire to move. Graham felt his pulse begin to hammer more rapidly as Belle played with his shirt’s buttons beneath the trim waistcoat he often favored on work days, deftly slipping her small hand beneath the chambray fabric to rest on the warm skin over his heart. Breathing in through his nose deeply, the sheriff schooled his body’s immediate reaction, seeing that she was seeking comfort rather than to set him aflame as she rested her head on his shoulder lightly and asked, “Did your canvas find anything? Any trace of who or what might have hurt Granny?”

He shook his head, releasing a heavy sigh as well. “No,” was the lowly murmured answer. “There really was very little left behind at the scene. All we have to go on is how Ruby found her and the strike to the head. Granny doesn’t remember anything.”

“Wait...nothing?” Belle interrupted, pulling back to look up into Graham’s face more fully. “How is that possible? She must have seen something.”

Graham’s gaze was equally puzzled and concerned as he stared back into her own searching expression. Shrugging as if at a loss, he finally replied wearily. “I know it doesn’t make much sense, but all Granny seems able to tell us is that she remembers going out there to pick mushrooms for that Swiss Melt burger of hers - she’s got some secret spot. Then the next thing she knew, she was coming to in the ambulance with Emma and Ruby both hovering over her along with the EMT. Everything else in between is a blank.”

“Almost as though someone cast a memory curse and wiped her mind clean,” Belle filled in darkly, knowing well that little else would explain such a complete void, and that in Storybrooke such an affliction could be all too common.

“Aye,” Graham agreed, knowing that she was right. It was something they had already discussed - he, Emma, Killian, and David - after trudging back to the station empty handed to reconvene before going their separate ways for the night. It was most likely some sort of memory curse, leading to the more sinister question of who had cast it and why? What was the culprit plotting that needed to be covered up? It hadn’t escaped any of them either that it could very well lead right back to Gold. True, Emma’s order with the dagger prevented him from harming them directly, but none of them were naive enough to think that he had forgotten his grudges, nor that he would simply simmer quietly forever without finding a way around their safeguards. Either he was already making his first strike, or he had found someone willing to make it for him in one of his notorious deals. There was no proof yet, or reason why Granny had borne the brunt of whatever the move was, but Gold was clever enough to hide his true motives, and it put Graham more on edge than ever. Especially for the woman in his arms who had already suffered more than enough. It was why he hadn’t wanted to go to her in the library this evening or to stay with her in her cozy apartment above it. Gold knew those places too well, was too familiar with any location in the town itself. He had magic, he could be lurking anywhere and overhearing them, watching them at any time…

He was just telling himself that he was perhaps getting a bit paranoid when Belle burrowed her nose into his chest adorably, squeezing her arms around him affectionately, before sitting up to look at him straight on. “All of you believe this is tied to Rumple somehow, don’t you?” she asked quietly, a bit of regretful sadness coloring her tone, but - Graham was pleased to note - not nearly the depth of heartache such a certainty would once have caused.

He merely nodded, covering her hand on his chest with his own and squeezing it in reassurance.

“I’m sure you’re probably right,” she added after a pause. “He never will learn.” She stood, almost as if to square her shoulders and go back to her beloved collection of books and get started even yet that night, ready to throw herself into research in an effort to be useful - despite them not even knowing a direction in which to point her. “Our work’s cut out for us then,” she added firmly. “If you stop by tomorrow on your way to the station, I might have some possible accomplices he has history with, or some memory spells that could indicate the one used on Granny, if I burn the midnight oil. Maybe I could even do a bit of poking around at the shop or spy on him carefully in the next few days. I doubt it would take much to convince him that I still wish to at least be friends...” Her chin was jutting out in determination, but her last statement had her voice quavering as her words trailed off.

But Graham was already lurching to his feet as well, reaching out for her anxiously as though he feared she might be about to dash out the door into the night. “Belle,” he pled, taking both her hands and bringing each to his mouth one by one, unfurling the fingers she had clenched into trembling fists to place a tender kiss into the center of each palm. “Please don’t go. It isn’t safe. We don’t know who is out there. Even if they’re working with Gold or not. I intended for you to stay here…” he hesitated, eyes wide and hopeful, “if you want. You know I wake before sunrise to sneak in a wolf run.”

At that at least Belle’s mouth lifted into a tentative smile at one corner, giving him the nerve to go on. 

“But stay here tonight, where I can know that you’re safe,” he pressed. “I won’t tell you what to do. You’re free to do as you see fit… but please don’t put yourself at risk or engage with him. He wants you back, and he would only hurt you again. I do not know if I would survive you… a-and our pup… being taken from me by that monster. Just… please… stay…”

His voice broke then, making Belle’s breath catch at just how much she and their unborn child meant to him. Graham’s calloused but careful touch swept an escaped strand of hair out of her face as she gazed up at him, more than a little bit awestruck, until she nodded wordlessly in acquiescence.

“Thank you,” he whispered bending to kiss her, drawing her close into an embrace that swept her up so fully she found herself standing on her tiptoes to get nearer still. 

“No, thank you,” she finally gasped when they separated for air, “for caring - for both of us - so dearly.” She placed her hand over her stomach, knowing it still appeared mostly flat, but something in her heart convinced her she already felt the little being there all the same.

“Always, my darling,” he promised in a raspy voice, emotion still on raw display. 

Then she gently slipped her fingers through his and let him lead her up the wooden staircase to bed. Right then she wanted nothing more than to curl into his side, let the man she loved surround her and hold her until morning. There was another battle for them to face and fight, but it would just have to wait until the new day dawned.


	4. chapter three: the pieces come together

~ chapter three: the pieces come together

The light of a new morning had just begun to peek over the horizon in Storybrooke, fresh and clear, as it always did, regardless of whatever chaos and strife had come the day before. One could almost believe the morning dew and the sun’s first rays would wash away any damage that lingered on the ground below and illuminate the calm of early dawn. Of course, human beings who lived in the magical mash-up of fairy tale heroes and villains knew better than such a fancifully idyllic notion, but it was a lovely thought, if nothing else.

One such person who knew all too well the caprices and vagaries of fate and how quickly events could turn, altering one’s whole life, stood sentinel on the hilly rise overlooking the sleepy New England town. His large, shaggy lupine body was alert but at peace as he gazed out over the strange little haven he had sworn to himself to protect as both man and beast. It was a soothing, picturesque view, and Graham enjoyed seeing it as the rising sun’s first rays and bursts of color decorated the landscape stretched out before his eyes. One genuinely could almost forget for a moment the place’s convoluted history and fraught present, and think it was just some tiny, charmed hamlet, quiet as it was so early and with so few yet awake and about.

The brisk morning air ruffled his thick russet coat, stirring the deep mahogany fur and pleasantly tickling along his skin. It was an invigorating sensation after his long gallop through the misty, grey pre-dawn, and Graham savored the freedom he felt these precious few hours he stole away each morning to run, wild and unhindered. He’d spent so long not free to do so…

Quickly shaking his rangy form, just as a dog might after an unwanted bath, Graham ordered his thoughts away from the dank, suffocating stone walls of the Evil Queen’s castle fortress long ago in another realm, and also away from the coldly austere walls of a dark, inescapable bedroom in the mayoral mansion. That was over, in the past, and though the fear and impressions still sometimes swept in, closing his throat and tightening his chest, the memories were easier to fight off as a wolf, more quickly tamped down once they surfaced. The trauma would never fully disappear, the canine huff that escaped his muzzle the best way to express that displeasure at present, but it was over. He was no longer caged, and these morning runs helped to remind him of that.

Just before he turned to head back down the ridge, home to his cottage and the amazing woman sleeping there who also helped him heal in more ways than he could say, movement at the lake shore caught his preternaturally sharp eye. He froze, motionless, zeroing in on the flicker of interest which had drawn his attention. 

There was someone walking down there, it took him only seconds to deduce, but why? There was nothing to do this early in the morning to interest the average person. Not that he wanted to be overly suspicious; it was a public space and anyone was more than welcome to walk along by the water. However, most folks who made use of the lake were in boats or fishing, enjoying the water and not self-conscious of avoiding notice. That was not the case of the form he had just noticed, a niggling unease disturbing his mind as the unknown stranger slunk silently along the lake’s edge, nearing the trees at the far side of the water and a large rock standing nearby, glancing over one shoulder often and obviously hoping to remain unseen.

His large ears flattened along his head, crouching on all fours, belly to the rocky ground, sensing he didn’t want the secretive being cloaked in deep blue to look up and catch him observing either. He couldn’t look away though; not knowing who this person was - a cloaked woman, he became more certain as he continued to watch - what she wanted, and most importantly, if she had something to do with the attack on Granny. A low, warning growl rumbled in his throat, almost without his conscious realization.

Frighteningly, however, the figure below snapped to attention as if the canine sound of displeasure had been heard; though that should have been impossible. Graham knew he couldn’t be seen, but felt himself holding his breath as the strange woman was clearly studying her surroundings. Then, to his utter disbelief, even with all the fairy tale characters come to life, the curses and magic he had seen in the last year, his eyes widened further still at the vision before him. As if having satisfied herself that she was indeed alone, the woman held her outstretched arm over the placid lake before her. The surface began to bubble and stir, and slowly some rather large, darkly gleaming cylindrical shape surfaced from within the depths, rising into the air and floating to the hand which had emerged from the voluminous sleeves of the stranger’s cloak and waited open to catch it. Graham’s astonishment was only heightened as the unknown woman tucked the object within the folds of her clothing, turned toward the surrounding forest, and seemed to vanish into the trees.

~~***~~***~~

Having the early shift at the station had never been Emma Swan’s favorite thing; mornings in Storybrooke were often either dully quiet or filled with the sort of petty, piddling complaints that she had little patience for. When she pulled first shift alone early on in her career as deputy, if had often been quite the battle not to drift off to sleep again at her desk unless she’d had a good three cups of coffee. However, now that she often worked mornings with Killian, Emma had come to enjoy the time - even if they were wordlessly filling out paperwork, it was peaceful and pleasant simply being in his company.

Bringing the Storybrooke Police Department mug she was using up to her lips, Emma tried to surreptitiously study the man in question as he dusted and swept out the two rarely used (other than by Leroy as an occasional drunk tank) holding cells, muttering to himself about ‘no substandard conditions on his watch’ and ‘slovenly drunken bloody dwarves’. He shook his head with clear disbelieving irritation - as if his obsessively clean and tidy habits were the norm rather than a rarity - carrying on in a way that made her quite sure he thought no one was paying any attention. She was, on the contrary, quite riveted in fact as she watched her lover work, his movements graceful even with actions as mundane as replacing clean sheets and pillowcases - which he had washed, she was sure - and making up the two cots with military neatness and precision. He leaned over a bit further to tuck the bedding in around a far mattress corner, and she flushed to realize she had actually traced her tongue across her lower lip hungrily at the sight of his pirate booty on display before her, encased in tight denim.

Standing, she made certain to place the mug quietly down on her desk surface and stealthily crossed the room to the cell he still occupied, fiddling with the window latch or some other detail not to his liking. With a naughty smirk already curving her lips, and pleased with herself for getting the drop on a pirate (and wolf), Emma swung the door shut on Killian while his back was still turned, letting the clang of it latching alert him to the situation for her. Her hands still rested on the bars, and she waited curiously to see how he would respond.

Killian startled her though by crossing the floor of the cell in a flash - almost the blink of an eye - so quickly that it made her breath catch raggedly in her throat. She jerked back reflexively, but was stopped by his hand and hook, resting on and pressing down atop her hands on the bars. He leaned in close to leer at her dangerously, a low-burning fire in his blue eyes before murmuring in a deep lilt, “Careful there, Lass. You’ll catch a bigger predator than you’re prepared to handle.”

Emma regained her composure quickly, not to be outdone. “We’ll see about that, Captain,” she practically taunted audaciously. “You’re the one in a cage.”

He merely waggled an eyebrow at her statement, seeing the truth in it though he didn’t seem at all troubled by the realization. Her pirate merely nodded in feigned thoughtfulness as he took a careful step back. Emma’s body screamed out a silent protest at the loss of his proximity, even as she struggled to seem as cool and unfazed as he. “If you say so, Emma,” Killian husked, his voice rasping enough to allow Emma momentary awareness that he wasn’t as unaffected as he seemed, gloating not withstanding, but then his low, rumbling voice added salaciously, “However, I doubt that I will remain entrapped for long. You see, Love, your body is giving you away…” his eyes swept up her form all the way from her booted toes to her messy ponytail in a way that heated her skin palpably. He brought his tongue out to swipe across his lower lip in a positively obscene gesture that made her tremble even more than he had already seen, at the very reminder of just what that tongue could do - and how it felt- running along her flesh. “You want me badly enough that it’s only a matter of time before you open this door to get in here with me.”

She wanted to kick herself, cursing silently in her head all the while, that her voice did indeed quaver in reaction even as she tossed back sassily, “You’re awfully sure of yourself there, sailor. Think you’ll be quite as cocky after spending the night on one of those cots?”

To her immense satisfaction, Killian’s mouth did drop open for a moment before he regained his composure, tilted his head to the side slightly, and this time, added in the ridiculous puppy eyes along with his comeback. “Now Lass, we both know you aren’t going to leave me here, are you? After all, you would be depriving yourself as much as me.”

“Hmmm…” Emma stalled, softly humming under her breath, turning back toward her desk as she did so, and making a show of taking her time to rifle through several items before finding the one she sought and turning back around to face him. “I wouldn’t be so sure,” she finally argued slyly, holding up the handcuffs she had located and letting them dangle from her finger in plain sight. “I’m beginning to think some restraint might do that ego of yours good.”

The rough vibrations of his deep chuckle felt as though they traveled across the floor and up into the souls of her feet they affected Emma so strongly. A pulse of want strummed directly through her core, and she knew the flush of it must be echoed on her face as Killian nodded in acknowledgement of it and a devious twinkle lit his eyes. “Why, Swan,” he replied innocently, “you’ve never complained of my cockiness before.”

For some reason that ridiculously bad wordplay was what finally snapped the cord holding her back. Twisting her hand sideways with the flick of a wrist, Emma unlocked the cell door as easily as she had closed it, and sent it swinging back open hard enough to make it bang against the bars loudly. In the next instant, she was through the door and on her handsome wolf man, clutching the collar of his jacket in her fists desperately and leaning in to kiss him so fervently she nearly knocked their noses together.

She felt as much as heard the huff of air that escaped him, caught off guard by the strength of her onslaught, and though his lips, teeth and tongue quickly caught up to the fierce vigor of her kiss, he did stumble back a few steps, sending them both sprawling onto the cot he had just made with a squeal of rusty springs.

Not that such a tumble stopped them for long. Emma ran a hand back through Killian’s dark hair greedily, unable to help but touch it, scrubbing her nails along his scalp back to the nape of his neck, where she pulled at the strands to tilt his head at the angle she desired, eliciting a heedless growl from his throat. While her forcefulness had him distracted, her other hand trailed down his arm to his wrist. With a chortle of victorious glee, she quickly pulled back just enough in his lap to snap the cuff closed around his wrist and then the metal frame of the cot.

Killian, who hadn’t been idle, the curve of his hook having trailed up her side beneath her shirt with shivering, deliciously cool precision and had been tracing along the underside of her breast, froze at the metallic click, arrested in mid-caress and then pressing his scruffy face to her shoulder, where he bit down lightly and then murmured, “Oh, you’re going to pay for that…”

She quirked a brow in question at his futile threat, knowing both that she had the upper hand, and that he wasn’t all that upset with the turn of events. “Am ?” she countered, looking at him with as devious an expression as she could muster before leaning forward to capture his lips again, whispering a mumbled, “We’ll see about that,” against his mouth.

His hooked arm had just urged her down further over him, tangling them together and pressing them even closer, despite the metallic jangle of the cuff on his other arm as he forgot its trapped position and began to bring it up to encircle her as well. They were well on their way to fully undressing one another - both jackets shed, the rest of Killian’s shirt unbuttoned so her greedy hands could run through the coarse hair on his chest and stomach, and Emma’s blouse nearly slashed down the front by a desperately tormented hook - when the sound of the station’s main entrance flying out to smack against the wall and the pounding of hurried footsteps sent them jerking upright, wide-eyed and panting, and caught red-handed. Call it the curse of small town life, but everyone around them seemed determined to help block their amorous interludes. Emma tried to run a shaky hand over her badly mussed hair before Graham rounded the corner into view.

He spared them only a quick, exasperated look before shaking his head and lamenting, “The cells, guys? Again? Really?” much to Emma’s sheepish apologies and Killian’s flushed embarrassment, before moving on, knowing that what he had seen was more important than lecturing his deputies on workplace protocol and boundaries. “I saw someone out by the lake shore early this morning - definitely secretive and certainly magical…” He began to fill in the details and it didn’t take long for them to agree that he might well have found the person who had accosted Granny Lucas - and could be colluding with Gold. The thing they needed to know now was why? And how to stop her before anyone else was harmed.

~~***~~***~~

While Graham was getting the Savior and his fellow wolf up to speed on all that he had heard and seen that morning, the object of his discourse was gliding silently, as surreptitious and unnoticed as a shadow down a nearby alley in the town, coming to a stop by the back entrance of Gold’s pawn shop. Not bothering to knock on the door or call out to announce herself, instead the still-shrouded figure, none other than Morgana, the healer and sorceress from Camelot of old, simply waved her hand before the door latch and with a deft twist of her wrist, unlocked the door and caused it to swing open without ever physically touching it.

Without even a moment’s hesitation, Morgana slipped through the narrow opening, bringing the door shut behind her, and made her way as assured and confident as if she had visited or seen it all there before, to the heavy drapery hanging between the back and front parts of the shop. As she brushed through the divider, Rumplestiltskin stood at the wide glass counter to her left, as though he had simply been awaiting her appearance, utterly calm and unruffled. 

“There you are, Madame le Fey,” he spoke quietly, turning to meet her with a deferential nod and the correct reverence in his voice, but a glimmer in his eye that showed he was still not as obsequious as it might seem. “I had hoped you weren’t planning to disappoint me.”

The hood was lifted from her head by pale, graceful hands, revealing long, shining hair so dark it nearly gleamed purple, black as a raven’s wing. The ancient sorceress’ eyes crackled with a malevolent fire the equal of Gold’s as she scoffed angrily at his words. “Hardly” she dismissed with a harsh retort. But then, as if knowing the wily pawnbroker, villain in his own right, well enough to be aware he would not simply take her word as sufficient answer, Morgana reached within the draped folds of her cloak, her hand emerging with the same metallically sparkling cylinder Graham had seen her raise from the lake.

All nonchalance shattered, the Dark One’s complete focus and attention was centered on the offering she held out before him, knowing what it was she possessed and long past any semblance of pretending she would not get her due for an item he wanted so desperately. “The Sorceror’s Hat,” Rumplestiltskin hissed on an awed breath, beginning to reach out toward the powerful talisman almost within his grasp, before pulling himself back and upright - under control - again.

“Indeed, it is, Dark One,” Morgana nearly purred in her rich, hypnotic voice, “as promised.”

He did give her a genuine nod and slight bow of impressed acknowledgement then. How she had acquired the hat mattered not to him; in fact, whether it had been her or anyone else bringing it to him would have made little difference. All that was of consequence was possessing the hat at last. And cleaving himself from control of the dagger - without losing his power. Then the Savior’s pitiful orders to protect those who had taken what belonged to him would be useless against him, and he could take back mastery of their shoddy little town, and on to the whole realm without magic to challenge him - as it should have always been. “You have done well, Dearie,” he complimented in a voice as pleasant and grateful as he could muster. Again, almost as if without his own conscious thought, Rumplestiltskin found his hands reaching out for the cylinder containing his prize.

Morgana, however, was not one to be trifled with, carefully gathering her find back against her body. “Ah ah ah, Dark One,” she warned in a quietly commanding sing-song, not so very unlike his own. “Not so fast. First, I require assurance that you will hold up your part of our deal.”

Exasperated, Rumplestiltskin’s response was impatient, hurried, not particularly inspiring confidence. “Yes, yes, of course.”

Tilting her head to study the imp facing her briefly, as if unable to resist prodding him just a bit, much like one had to imagine he had done to her at some point in the past, the fey woman added, “After all...was it not you who taught me, all those ages ago, that magic always comes with a price?”


	5. chapter four: sinister stirrings, signs of life

~chapter four: sinister stirrings, signs of life

Gold did not allow his accomplice’s taunt to hang in the air for long; instead, speculation lit his serpentine eyes with cunning curiosity. “And just what is your price, Morgana? What is it that a powerful witch like you cannot simply conjure for yourself with ease?”

“I seek vengeance,” she bit out, tone icy cold with the fierce utterance. “For my father’s life, for my mother’s pain… and what I have lost to that ingrate King… Arthur of Camelot.” She spat the famed appellation, which most spoke in reverence, with a venom that momentarily surprised even the Dark One.

A knowing, secretive smile crept over his sharp face; no other words necessary for him to understand what drove her. He had after all seen the quest for revenge bring many a man and woman to his door, willing to take his wretched deals whatever the cost, and then meet their doom, or at least soul’s ruin. He and the would-have-been Duchess of Cornwall had much in common, and always had. Both believed the world to have slighted them, and both plotting, scheming, grasping every bit of what they felt was their due wherever they could. Perhaps she would grow a bit too desperate, and he could then be certain of the upper hand in their arrangement. He would simply watch and wait to see.

Morgana, on the other hand, was not idle, even as she finally handed the contained hat over to Gold and began to move around his shop with mild interest as he examined the token ravenously. Just as her former mentor sensed her fervent desire and impatience, the seething rage pushing her forward, she could also read his extreme confidence, his discounting of the worthy mind and abilities she had cultivated since the time he had known her well. He thought she would be easy to manipulate; powerful enough to provide the assistance he needed, but not a true threat to his own mastery of the exchange. 

He misjudged both her magical strength - and her loyalty. She had learned that no one could be trusted but herself. Though she was willing to side with him while it proved beneficial, she would not sacrifice her own goal, nor confuse a healthy respect with true devotion. Rumplestiltskin foolishly believed her indebted to him, simply because he had discovered where to summon the hat from Merlin’s safekeeping. That mattered little when she was the one who had retrieved it; she was the one he had needed to complete his task. Their purposes were not truthfully as aligned as he thought, yet she felt no qualms at playing along until it was too late for even the Dark One himself to stop her or ruin her plans. He saw her as a willing and able pawn, and she would let him do so for the time being. As long as he gave her the hat as promised when he was done, and she could increase her power, take it back to Camelot, usurp Arthur, and gain her revenge, she cared little how Gold’s plan worked out. His power would be the first she would harness for her own devices - his and all the other Dark Ones who had come before - once the time was right.

“That seems only fair,” Rumplestiltskin spoke in his slick, indulgent tones that might fool someone who didn’t know him as well as Morgana did. Though neither fully trusted the other - nor any beyond themselves - the sorceror before her did seem near tittering with subdued malevolent glee. He really was an imp to his core, delighting in the fall of those who took might and control by vicious means, even if that downfall was not of his own making. “King Uther, Arthur’s father, did indeed wrong your family greatly.”

“I know that,” she snapped, eyes burning as they swung to his in sudden anger. “You needn’t recount the injustices! I remember them well.” Her fine, white hands clenched and unclenched, as her deceptively thin shoulders heaved. She was practically seething from every pore.

Unfazed, the Dark One stepped nearer, cradling his precious talisman in one hand as he wagged his forefinger at her teasingly. She wanted to snap the digit at its joint, but instead held her tongue stonily. “Easy there, Dearie,” Gold chided in his infuriating manner of jest. “Flying off the handle like that can lead to dangerous mistakes.” He winked at her before turning to leave, clearly unconcerned with her alone in his shop to wreck it if the desire took her.

Morgana’s voice rang out quickly, before he could vanish in a puff of his magic, stopping him with the sort of ringing command he couldn’t ignore. “Midnight, a week from now, when the moon is at its fullest… If you wish for my help, you will bring the Sorceror’s Hat to the lakeside when the lunar orbit reaches the zenith. We will perform the ceremony, and then the hat will be mine once it has served its purpose for you. Do we have an accord?”

“Certainly, certainly,” Gold chimed, and though his tone was soft and sibilant, Morgana could hear the eagerness, the urgency for his full freedom and command of his power running beneath. She wasn’t the only one whose need for retribution had them chomping at the bit.

All that remained, she considered saying as the bell tinkled after Rumplestiltskin’s exit, was to see who would allow their quest to be their undoing. Then, without another moment’s hesitation, she vanished from the spot as well in her own column of cobalt blue smoke.

~~***~~***~~***~~

Once again nighttime darkness reigned over the quiet streets of Storybrooke. The main street, lined with storefronts, the Sheriff’s station, and the cheerily butter-yellow Town Hall, was so still and calm by 9:30 that one might think the place either deserted or inhabited entirely by senior citizens, Emma thought with a wry shake of her head and exhaled breath as she sat watching the scene before them from her usual work parking space. Apparently, fairy tale characters exiled in the “real world” adhered to a similar early bird schedule. She was in the more roomy back seat of her Bug, not expecting to see much of anything that would require her to pull out quickly, and needing to sit somewhat turned in the seat to keep her eyes on Gold’s shop, a Thermos of hot chocolate on hand to warm her insides as the night grew more chilled, and Killian cuddled against her side assuringly, something in his lupine makeup keeping him always a few degrees warmer than the average human.

Reading her mild amusement as easily as he seemed to do with all her changes in mood and emotion, Killian leaned in to whisper against her ear, his scruffy whiskers raking deliciously across her cheek and neck. “What is it, Swan? Did I miss something humorous?”

Emma shook her head with a chuckle, swiveling a bit to look at his quirked brow and curious face more clearly. His crystalline, sea-blue eyes twinkled as if he could already anticipate her answer, and in that moment, Emma genuinely wanted nothing more than to kiss him senseless, plant little pecks all over his forehead and cheeks and chin, just for sitting there with her, for always being by her side, and for being her ridiculous, handsome, dependable companion, whatever new surprise or danger came their way. Though she managed to hold back the outburst of affection, she still couldn’t help the frisson of awareness that ran through her veins at his nearness, even while proceeding to answer his simple question. “No, nothing funny really, just thinking how there truly is no night life here. It’s not even ten o’clock, and there’s no one out on the street!”

“Aye,” Killian nodded conversationally in agreement. “You’ve a point there. Any port town in which the Jolly ever docked - regardless of how small or remote - was more lively than our little town currently.”

Both fell silent once more, eyes unavoidably drawn to the entrance of the darkened pawn shop, looking deceptively closed and shuttered,but nevertheless the reason they were sitting on the street in a stakeout and wondering whether or not they should trust the seeming peace of the night around them. “Exactly,” she smirked at his comment, against her better judgement leaning closer as she did. She could feel that the spark always burning between them, fanned by both recent interrupted assignations, was still simmering hotly, barely banked by more pressing concerns, and knew that the right sort of look or touch might well be all that was needed to set it aflame once more. And yet, she couldn’t find it in herself to resist.

Killian reacted just as she had hoped, his response to her invitation almost immediate, hand balancing him on the seat beside her as he leaned even closer than they had already been seated, his breath warming her forehead as he exhaled and his hook tracing a purposeful path up her jean-clad thigh. “Looking for a bit more excitement, are you Darling?” he questioned devilishly, his lips and tongue pronouncing each sound and syllable of the words in a manner that left tingles racing up and down her spine. 

The intentional progress of his metal appendage swung inward to trace along her pants inseam, ever closer to the goal, and Emma swallowed hard, irrationally embarrassed that he might already feel the heat radiating from her center and how her pulse seemed to be throbbing there noticeably. It was all she could do not to start shedding layers and crawl into his lap. She could only nod eagerly for several tensely heated seconds before finally affirming breathily. “What if I am, Pirate? Are you gonna do something about it?”

Killian’s heavy, dark eyebrows practically danced across his forehead merrily, as if she’d given him a present with her challenge. The tip of his wicked tongue poked from between his full, tempting lips before tracing along the lower one as if he had just glimpsed a meal her wanted to devour. “Oh, you know I will, Emma. Don’t you even doubt it.”

In the next instant, he seemed to pounce, his warm weight pressing her back against the leather upholstery of the Bug’s rear bench seat, as that tongue swept into her mouth to lay claim. The curved edge of his hook found its goal at last, putting delicious cool pressure against her still-clothed heated core and making her moan shamelessly into his mouth in return.

“Oh...Ki - Killian!... Please…. Ummm…” she raised her hips almost unconsciously, bucking toward his questing hook, and the added stimulation of his hand, which had now managed to slip under her shirt, up her side to her heaving chest. Emma forgot all about Gold, the newcomer, and why they were outside in her car at all, between the way his hand and hook were making her feel and his lips suddenly veering from her own to wander along her jaw back to the sensitive spot behind her ear, driving her even more out of her mind. She would swear under oath that she shouldn’t be held responsible when her desperately clutching hands pulled so hard at his shirt in her haste to touch him too and hold onto something to ground herself that she heard the sound of ripping fabric over her own gasp and whimper of need.

Not in the least disturbed by wardrobe damage - he had lost count of how many shirts and pants his wolf had destroyed in transformation ages ago - Killian merely chuckled with indulgent pride at the effect he was clearly having on his usually cool and collected girlfriend. It wasn’t lost on him that Emma rarely allowed herself to let go of control so completely. Splayed before him openly, eyes half-closed in bliss, Emma was offering him the trust and vulnerability few others received from her, and it awed him all the more beyond what her beauty had already accomplished. Not wanting the swell of emotion to derail them, now that they had at last managed to preserve a long enough moment alone, he bent his head back to the task before him. He nearly lost a handful of hair when a few seconds later he caught the lobe of her ear between his teeth and bit down playfully, not expecting the force with which Emma grasped the dark strands between her fingers as she keened breathlessly.

The wicked smile that quirked his lips as he murmured into her neck, “Feeling lively enough now?” was entirely unavoidable, if he did say so himself. For a moment, he allowed his mind to gloat inwardly as her pants seemed to indicate his Swan incapable of speech from his pleasurable ministrations.

Letting down one’s guard around Emma was never wise, however, as he was soon letting out an indecently loud and tormented groan of his own satisfaction. Somehow, while he had been occupied with tracing patterns over her collarbone with teeth and tongue, she had worked a clever hand into his tight jeans and dealt him more than enough taste of his own medicine.

“Ah! Wh- Swan…” he choked, his own head falling forward to rest on her shoulder as she squeezed and pumped delicately in the limited space she had to work with. “Mmm, love...easy does it,” he finally managed to grind out after riding the sensation for a minute. “Much more of that and you’ll bring the night to completion before I can finish what I started.”

Reluctantly his bold lass did release him and pull back slightly, one sculpted eyebrow arched in what could only be the beguilingly feminine equivalent of the look he had given her so many times before. “Can’t have that now, can we?” she teased gently, stroking along his stomach muscles, which quivered in response to her touch and practically smirking up at him.

“Certainly not, Love. It would be poor form indeed to leave a lady such as yourself unsatisfied.” He licked his lips salaciously, but meant every word, and the way she threw back her head with a wholehearted guffaw of laughter made him certain she knew it too.

“Well then, Captain,” she purred, pulling him in once more by the charms that hung around his neck. “Let’s see you make good on your word.”

Pressing forward with a deep, almost feral sounding growl, part his own desire and part his wolf within howling to break free, he lay her back unresistingly on the seat beneath them, spread out before him like a delectable banquet feast.

When they surfaced some time later, bare and skin glistening with sweat from their enjoyable activities, they had already missed both clouds of magic and the reappearance outside the shop of their new female nemesis - the reason they had been waiting in the car in the first place. Still, even if they had been less than purposeful, as they rested together, sated and entwined in each other’s arms, neither Emma nor Killian could bring themselves to mind.

~~~**~~~**~~~**~~~

After checking in with Emma and Killian at the station - and gathering a much clearer picture of how his deputy and her beau were progressing as a couple than he had needed or wished to have - making sure they had been alerted about the strange woman he had seen at daybreak, Graham was more than anxious to see his own lady love once more. Firstly, because he longed to be at her side, to see her happy, every second of each day that it was reasonably possible; a truly jarring sensation for a man who had up until that point led a quiet, solitary life and thought himself reasonably satisfied, but a sensation he had warmed to and treasured all the same. And secondly, knowing that she carried their pup - a child conceived of their love for each other - in her womb made the normal protective urges he already struggled to manage at normal levels exponentially stronger. To think that Gold still lurked around town and must wish to win - or coerce or steal - Belle back to himself worried Graham enough on a daily basis, but the attack on Granny and this obviously magical stranger’s appearance had him all the more on edge. No, Belle might argue that she was quite alright and could take care of herself, but he intended to stick quite close by whenever his duties as Sheriff allowed, and he might just speak to David and Snow about seeing if someone could stay nearby, just in case, when he could not. He would simply bear her annoyance and exasperation with his fussing as best he could; it was much better than seeing any harm come to her.

Letting his mind return to that morning, Graham thought back on how, after sighting the cloaked woman by the lake, he had hastened back to his cabin with extra speed, shifting on the porch back into his lanky human form so as to let himself in with ease and check on Belle where he had left her sleeping. The sight of her peaceful in repose beneath the moss-green cotton sheets upon the bed, her auburn hair spread out across the pillow, and the softest little purr of a snore escaping her pretty lips, had made him loathe to wake her.

Shirtless and barefoot, clad only in the grey sweatpants he slipped on for decency once human again, he padded across the smooth hardwood floor simply watching her sleep for a few seconds longer with an adoring smile on his face. He had never seen her look so serene, stunning in her sweet fragility, her petite beauty and kind nature concealing what he knew to be a backbone of strongest steel. Still, however much he hated to rouse her from much-needed rest, she had made him promise to take her with him back into town this morning. She was not content to hide out and wait passively until all was safe. And even if it was only researching information that might help prepare the rest of them for the storm they all knew was coming, or finding any accounts which might might better inform the two of them on the little one they were awaiting, she would not settle for anything less than doing her part, in her library, surrounded and aided by her beloved books.

Perching lightly on the mattress near her hip, Graham reached out a large, calloused hand, with a gentleness he hadn’t even known he possessed (having never known a tender touch until this tiny spitfire of a woman came into his life) lifted a loose strand of hair from her velvet-soft cheek and tucked it behind her ear. As he had known it would, even such a light touch had her stirring, beginning to stretch and slowly wake.

Now that his duties for the day were mostly complete, it eased his soul to once more slip into the cool, enveloping shadows and hushed, welcoming space of the town library. He could feel the taunt hunch of his shoulders relax within seconds of entering his love’s hallowed space, at the sound of Belle’s voice farther within the stacks, directing someone he could not yet see. Perhaps one of their friends had already had the same thoughts he did and undertaken to keep her company.

Venturing on silent feet, long accustomed to moving swiftly and without sound on the forest floors and castle courtyards of their old world, Graham stepped into one of the larger conference rooms toward the back of the library, one appointed with a large study table and numerous chairs for large groups. He leaned against the doorframe there, happy just to watch and enjoy the comfort and relief of once more being in her presence and seeing her in her element.

The Hatter in their world - Jefferson, Graham believed he went by here, was the first other person he saw. He recalled with a wince that this man had also been painfully manipulated by Regina - both in the Enchanted Forest past and their small town present. He knew with the same guilt-ridden certainty that he had realized Belle could have been freed from her imprisonment sooner if he had been quicker to awaken and act, that he had probably passed Jefferson on the steps of the mayoral mansion or in the frigid labyrinths of the Town Hall, but both had been too ashamed at being ensnared or indebted, or in some way under the command of the Evil Queen, to look up and meet the other’s eyes, to see a fellow sufferer or brother-in-arms. If nothing else, he reminded himself pushing off the doorjamb and moving into the well-lit and enlivened conversation humming around him, at least now he was beginning to see just how many friends there truly were here, as well as foes. Good people who could be relied upon and were hoping for the chance to regain their lives, just as much as he and Belle were.

His adorable librarian was chatting happily with both Jefferson’s daughter Grace and Henry, who were all too content with darting back and forth from the stacks for any book Belle could think of to request - all of them trying to keep her seated and off her feet. Coming to her side eagerly, Graham leaned over to kiss her cheek, even as she turned her head upward to greet him with a welcoming grin.

“It’s good to see you,” he whispered in her ear, letting his scruff tickle along her skin slightly, making her giggle and tuck her chin toward her chest.

Still, she caught his hand and squeezed it back affectionately, holding on and pulling it down to rest his palm over her still-flat stomach.

His brow furrowed, confused, even as she beamed at him to wait and be patient. It was much to early for him to be feeling any sort of movement from their little one; Belle wasn’t even showing. He was more than a little puzzled, and a bit concerned if the truth were told, but willing to humor her, and so stilled dutifully, waiting for he knew not what.

Then, abruptly, a definite jolt jarred his large hand from where it rested against Belle’s stomach. Eyes widening almost comically as they darted up to her face, he felt as much as saw Belle suck in an excited breath as she nodded her head in enthusiastic affirmation.

“Wait, but, it can’t be… It’s too soon…” he sputtered. “Are you sure? Should we take you to Whale? Are you hurting at all, Darling?”

The flow of words was almost more than she had ever heard her gentle huntsman say at once, but no more than she expected. Still, she tried to implore him in her gaze and the steady pressure on his hand to calm, that she had learned some things about her particular pregnancy and she would fill him in, but she wasn’t in pain, and she wasn’t concerned or frightened - though she had known he would be, for her. Guiding his hand still, she brought it to her lips to gently kiss the back of it, hoping to soothe him. She merely wanted to share this miracle with this precious man, the depth of her joy causing tears to well in her eyes.

They were still for several grounding moments, and when she lifted her gaze to meet Graham’s once more, she saw that same welling of love and astonishment in his eyes as well.


	6. ~chapter five: by the light of the moon

~ chapter five: by the light of the moon

Of course, later that night, when it became clear that they had missed the mysterious newcomer in her meeting with Gold due to their “more pleasurable activities”, both Emma and Killian felt more than a bit of blushing chagrin - if not regret. Sneaking back into her own home while unsuccessfully hoping to evade her ever-curious son, who was more than anxious to hear how their stakeout had gone and what they had found, was more than a bit embarrassing for Emma when she had nothing to report because she had been busy letting her werewolf man bring her to the brink of pleasure - twice - instead of keeping her eyes peeled for signs of their foe. 

Still, glancing over to Killian at her side, making sure that their front door was closed and locked and their little family ensconced safely for the night, his protectiveness and leadership showing even in the most mundane and everyday of tasks, Emma couldn’t quite make herself regret their stolen moments. Though nearly half a year into the relationship now, it still felt fresh and new, each touch or kiss still as exciting and enflaming as the first, and though there was never as much time as she would like, Emma didn’t want that to fade, couldn’t stand to neglect it, and so would take her precious minutes with her lover wherever and whenever she could.

Cheeks still burning, she tried to stumble through Henry’s questions on their stakeout results without either disgusting, confusing or scarring him. Henry was perceptive enough to sense his mom’s unease, though, and to catch that she wasn’t telling him everything. His stubborn inquisitiveness - which she had to grudgingly admit in times like these probably came directly from her - was almost certainly getting ready to latch on for dear life when Killian stepped in tidily and managed to distract and redirect Henry.

“What it comes down to, lad,” Killian smoothly interjected, looking at her for a moment in confirmation of her willingness to allow him to step in. When she gave a minute nod of agreement, the warmth and gratitude that flooded his eyes was overwhelming enough to steal her breath. Quickly, he switched his attention back to an increasingly impatient 11-year-old, and continued, “is that we waited there for hours, but the way that Gold and his accomplice can poof about using their magic and not having to visibly walk somewhere as you or I would, allowed them to come and go right under our noses, regardless of our surveillance efforts. Now, I am a bit chilled, more than a mite hungry, and in need of stretching my legs a bit. What say you to some of that instant packaged beverage you and your mum are so enamored of, and a walk about the yard under the stars after? I can point out a few more of the constellations you were curious about…”

Henry nodded eagerly, sidetracked for the moment at least by a more appealing offer. Emma turned to offer Ruby, who been over at their house to keep an eye on Henry until they returned, a shrug of her shoulders and a ‘thank you’ for being willing to hold down the fort, only to be greeted by a wide, devious smile from her all-too-pleased looking friend.

“They slipped by you, huh?” she scoffed, raising a perfectly sculpted dark eyebrow in a feminine iteration of Killian’s expressiveness. “Hmmm,” her blood red manicured nails tapped at her chin as if she were thinking over the likelihood of their excuse, all the while eyeing Emma as if waiting for her to crack.

“Yeah, I guess so?” Emma tried to hedge, not sure what Ruby was getting at, but knowing she didn’t want to give the vivacious drama queen any ammunition. “I mean, I don’t use my magic to flit here and there invisibly, but I’m sure Gold’s pretty good at it,” she added almost defensively, crossing her arms over her chest.

Ruby leaned in, as if taking a whiff of some new perfume Emma was wearing, and shook her head in mock sympathy at Emma’s attempt to stall her. “Oh Emma, who are you kidding? You can’t fool a wolf, honey. You and Killian were so busy with each other that Gold and this mystery woman could have walked right up and knocked on your fogged up car windows and you wouldn’t have noticed. Admit it.” 

Emma’s eyes widened at being caught, and Ruby grinned widely, showing all her teeth in a way that almost made Emma able to see the sleek predator she could become without the brunette’s even having to shift. “Ha! I knew it!” Ruby crowed. “I can smell him all over you, you know,” she added raucously, patting Emma on the arm in good natured gloating, “and you him. I hope you two were careful…”

“Ruby!” Emma almost squeaked in her indignance, not wanting Henry to run back into the room and hear any of this conversation. 

“Oh relax, Deputy,” she smiled, slinging her red purse over her shoulder and sauntering toward the door. “Don’t worry so much. Henry’s more than occupied trying to help your man use the microwave.” She pointed to her ear as if to indicate that her hearing was every bit as acute as her sense of smell and bid her friend a laughing goodbye, making an exit out the front door before an amused and exasperated Emma could make any further comment.

Instead, she trailed into the kitchen where her two guys were pulling out cups and dumping cocoa packets into heated water. She shook her head fondly and restrained herself from mentioning that it was a school night and they had better not stay up too late. Moving to reach into the upper kitchen cabinet for their large Thermos, thinking that would work better than open mugs to keep their drinks warm and unspilled, she felt Killian’s warm frame pressed deliciously along her back as he placed a gentle, staying hand to her hip and reached over her easily with his greater height to snag the Thermos handle with his hook and retrieve it for her. He planted a quick kiss at her nape that made a tremor snake along her spine, and even though they had just enjoyed each other’s enthusiastic ministrations but an hour or so earlier, he gave a surreptitious thrust of his hips against her backside - thankfully unnoticed by Henry, who was leaning into the refrigerator in search of the whipped cream - that, though playful, made it blatantly obvious he still wanted her, and made her need to have him once again begin simmering in her veins as well.

Hot chocolate made, the two loves of her life were soon crossing the moonlit grass of the backyard, heading down to the dock Killian had built where their property met the water. They had a perfect, clear view of the night sky’s canvas there, free of tree branches, light poles, and other obstructions.

Having dragged a warm afghan from the surplus of bedding they kept in the mud room for camping trips and the like, Emma curled up on the porch swing to wait for their return and guard their drink. With the blanket wrapped around her shoulders and her feet tucked up beneath its warmth, she squinted toward where she knew her son and her pirate were, their voices echoing back to her over the water, and her heart swelling as she did so, glad beyond measure that Henry and Killian were naturally growing close, sharing such moments together; it was all she could have hoped for.

When they did return to her, Henry took a seat at the other end of the swing, having somehow gotten taller and lankier right before her eyes, and Killian slid in behind her, her back against him as she reclined comfortably into his side, his arm coming up to cradle her. It was clear that even for an over-exuberant and wise-beyond-his-years 12-year-old, the hour was growing late and her son was fighting off sleep. His eyelids fluttered, and he began to slowly slump, then jerk back into upright wakefulness three times before he finally leaned over against his mom’s drawn-up legs and succumbed to peaceful rest.

“I’ll need to take him up to his room before he takes a chill,” Killian said conscientiously, and Emma felt him beginning to shift to do so, but she put a stalling hand to his thigh.

“Thank you,” she murmured, “for caring for him so much. For… for treating him like he’s your own.” She paused, then let that heartfelt statement hopefully sink in as he pressed her hand within his. Then she added, “You’re right of course, Killian, but… can we just… stay here another minute or two? It’s so peaceful tonight.”

“Aye Love,” his voice rumbled, his whiskered cheeks rubbing along her hair line, his lips at her ear as he continued, the sensuous heat of earlier having settled into a gentler glow of devoted warmth. “As you wish.”

They sat in silence, content to simply enjoy each other’s presence and sip hot chocolate for a few long, perfect moments before Killian spoke again, gesturing up at the sky as he did so, directing her gaze to a constellation just visible past the edge of the roof. “See that formation there, Lass?”

Emma followed where he was directing her, seeing the cluster of stars he had indicated, and nodding drowsily, so relaxed and happy right then in Killian’s arms, that she could almost drift away to join Henry in dreamland if she weren’t so curious to see what her sailor wanted to show her.

“That’s Cygnus, Love...the Swan.” He breathed the words into her skin, their licking flames along her nerve endings awakening and igniting her once more, even as he was still offering the sort of flattery that might as well form sonnets on that honeyed tongue of his. “Your own constellation, Emma. Did you know that? Though none of those star’s brightness is an equal to you.”

“Smooth talker,” she scoffed easily, reaching up to run a hand along his bristled jawline, relishing the strength of it, and then trailing her fingers back to his rather adorably pointed ear, scruffing behind it almost as she would do to a true canine. The low rumbling of satisfaction that escaped Killian’s throat made her bite back a smile, sure that if he had a tail he would be wagging it in that moment. She felt the tremor in his wiry frame as she was this time the one to make him shiver with desire.

“Every word is the truth,” he returned sincerely, despite the rasp in his voice, as he ran a reverent hand through her long hair, fingers lightly brushing the silky strands as carefully as though he really were handling the sort of golden treasure a pirate such as himself would crave.

Shaking her head, not really knowing how to accept such praise, even in private and genuinely meant, she hauled herself to her feet and out of the cozy nest of his embrace on the swing. “Come on, you ridiculous flirt,” she directed, no real heat or irritation in her tone. “Time for us to get Henry to bed before we all end up spending the night in the chill.”

No fool, and able to read her every mood and mannerism easily, Killian knew what she was doing, but didn’t challenge her. Instead, he stood as well, stooping to lift Henry’s lax and slumbering frame over his shoulder and follow Emma to the lad’s bedroom as she opened doors and ushered them along the way without collision. Once the sleeping preteen, still dead to the world and letting out the faintest wheeze of a snore, was back in his own room, lowered to the bed where he curled up on one side blissfully unaware of his change in locale, Killian stood back to his full height, but lingered, looking on fondly as Emma pulled Henry’s blanket up to cover his ever-stretching body and swept a hand through his chocolate-dark hair to brush it off his forehead. To think that he could have this amazing woman - the Savior! - and her boy in his life, that he was now a part of such things as bedtime routines and algebra homework made his heart swell to such fullness that Kilian wondered how much it could withstand.

By the time they were slipping down the hall to their own boudoir, Emma’s hand in his as they opened the door and undressed quietly on opposite sides of the large, comfy bed, the flames of desire that had been licking beneath his skin had been banked to a steady, lingering ember. As Emma scooted across the mattress and curled into his chest, her old, thigh-length T-shirt cotton meeting his bare chest and flannel pants-covered legs, he was more than content to enjoy the calmer glow simmering between them. In fact, as his eyes closed, Killian couldn’t help feeling that this quieter, less appreciated moment was everything.

~~~**~~~**~~~**~~~

Some few days later, all the way across Storybrooke and in the midst of the woods, another of their hero band was finding much less peace. Well into the darkest stretch of the night, Belle was still wide awake at the small desk in the corner of the bedroom in Graham’s forest cabin. She was no less thrilled at being separated from her own library and apartment as she had been when Graham first suggested the precaution of staying with him, but she had since equipped herself accordingly and made do on restless nights. Sitting up a bit straighter and attempting to work a kink from her neck and shoulders after reading bent over the text in dim lamplight for so long, she winced sharply, bringing her palm to cradle the side of her stomach as the babe within made its displeasure known at her movement.

Though she logically knew it was much too early for the small fetus to be moving, or for her to be showing, both were happening all the same. She saw a small bulge even after donning her bright yellow dress that morning, and Graham had commented on it in equally awed and worried tones as he had served her breakfast when she came down the stairs. Not only that, but it would seem their pup shared its father’s restless need to roam and run if the near-constant shifts and kicks she felt against her hand whenever she rested it over her womb were any indication. There was no use doubting the heightened time frame of werewolf gestation now, not when she was clearly living it.

Regardless of the pangs and twinges she felt, Belle also had more weighty concerns pressing down upon her shoulders. With her boyfriend’s amiable help and handy muscle, she had managed to lug so many books to her temporary dwelling that Graham had playfully teased that there couldn’t be much left for the rest of the town to read. Still, though she had been somewhat vindicated in the sheer volume of materials transported by the fact that the seeming answer to what Rumple and his new conspirator could be after lay before her eyes, Belle couldn’t feel much victory over the new dread it instilled.

The pages of the dusty old tome open on the the desk before her detailed a magical object once rumored to have belonged to Merlin of Camelot himself. Supposedly it had been crafted by the fabled wizard to contain the vengeful powers of the Darkness after it swallowed the woman Merlin had loved and twisted her into the first Dark One. On the weathered old paper, it looked rather inconsequential, a metallic cylinder which could apparently open into what looked like a sorceror’s tall pointed hat, but Belle knew better than most that appearances were often deceiving. Consequently, she felt sure that if Rumple got his hands on it, the hat could quite probably do as the book said. Belle shivered at the probable repercussions the moment they entered her mind: he might well free himself from his dagger’s control without sacrificing his power. It was all he had ever wanted, she realized with sinking certainty, and without the tether Emma had used his dagger to place upon him, Rumple would without doubt wreck pain and retribution on them all.

Except maybe...Belle paused, reluctant to even ponder the chance that entered her mind, desperate for an avenue which might protect those she loved, and yet fearful that she might have to take the only one she could come up with. She might be able to go to him - alone - might be able to reach the man beyond the Beast, the heart of the good person Rumple had once been long ago, as she had done before.

She didn’t relish it; in fact, her skin crawled with disgust and dread, both in fear at how it might backfire and at the lies she would have to weave, both to manipulate the master of deception and fine print, and to her own heart and the father of her child, whom she would need to slip away from and leave behind to stand even a chance of enacting her plan. 

The child within seemed to roll over in protest at the very idea she was considering. Looking across the room to the bed where Graham lay deep in slumber, his lean, bronzed form sprawled diagonally over the mattress, sheet barely coming up to drape across his hipbone, making Belle flush at the delectable sight. His strong, calloused hands lay lax upon the pillow and his honeyed mass of boyishly youthful curls stood up like untamed corkscrews from his scalp, but he didn’t move. She placed her hand on the part of her stomach where their little one rested, needlessly shushing their restless pup. Knowing she didn’t have long before her man woke and his faultless lupine senses found her and brought her back to safety, Belle was already on her feet, dressed once more, and gathering a few needed items to take with her.

She had to try she reasoned with herself, attempting to quell the pangs of conscience troubling her over how beside himself Graham would be when he woke to find her gone. This wasn’t just for her own life and happiness, but for all of them. If Rumple might listen to her, if she could reason with the small part of him which had once cared for her - though never enough to win out over his magic, her mind cautioned unhelpfully - then she might stand a chance at stopping his wrath.

Looking back to the pages she had been studying on ancient Camelot and Merlin’s attempt to curtail the reach of the Darkness, she wanted to make sure that she understood how the talisman worked, the shape it would appear in, and what Rumple must intend to do with it. If she was really considering going to him, to try to make a deal of some sort or broker peace, then she needed to be prepared. She wasn’t naive enough to think that the move wouldn’t be dangerous - and yet her sense of duty and care for the welfare of others wouldn’t allow her to sit back and wait for attack. She had known Rumplestiltskin longer and better than most could claim, and she was no longer hampered by the rose-colored glasses that had once tinted her judgement of his actions and and intent with a falsely hopeful hue. The inability to go after Killian and Graham most especially, but all of those who had attempted to hold him back or control him had to have been festering inside, growing his resentment insidiously ever since they had found his dagger and Emma had used it to effectively neutralize him as a threat.

Belle knew better now; nothing could keep the Beast inside - the larger part of the man she had tried to change, the part she had disastrously attempted to ignore to her own pain and suffering - from his chosen course forever. She knew what she was after, and what she had to do, and she was the only one who stood even a chance of stalling Rumple long enough to make him listen. If she didn’t, Emma and Killian, both of whom she now counted as dear friends, would be in the immediate line of fire - and soon.

As far as she could discern from the information before her, the moon would be at its fullest in just a little over an hour. It would be the best time for Rumple and his shadowy accomplice to attempt the ceremony she dreaded they had in mind. If the accounting she had found at last, after a week of frenzied searching, was at all accurate, they intended to use this talisman to free the Dark One from his leash. He would retain all his considerable power - and the imminent threat it posed - but the dagger would no longer restrain him or bring him to heel. And she knew, certain as the sun rose, that he would be coming for all those she held dear.

Sighing regretfully, Belle made to sneak quickly from the room. She had purposefully waited until she had just enough time to reach the lake before the moon reached its zenith; that was how she had wanted it, so that if her Huntsman woke and hurried after to stop her, he couldn’t reach her before she could get to her destination. Aching to lean down and kiss his brow, smooth in peaceful sleep as it never seemed in wakefulness, and brush back his riotous hair, she refrained for fear of waking him, instead leaving a note that assured him of her love, and that she hoped to return as soon as possible. She hurried out the door before she could linger too long and miss her chance. He would want to go with her - no, go in her place - but he had been hurt too much already. He was always so noble and so selfless, but this time she meant to protect him.

The body of water she had chosen as her best option for finding their meeting place was not that far a trek in all honesty. Even on foot, as she intended to go to maintain secrecy and quiet, it wouldn’t take her more than twenty minutes to hike to the stand of trees keeping sentinel at its side. She might be a bit winded by the time she reached the small rise beyond which she hoped would give her a vantage point, but she was hoping the time spent traveling, and the open sky and fresh air, would steady her jangling nerves and steel her resolve.

Not only had Graham’s first sighting of the stranger in their midst been beside that small body of water, but Belle was beginning to fear - from both her research and the telling quiver in her gut - that the woman Gold was meeting with was none other than the ancient, and evil, sorceress Morgana leFay herself. For one thing, Morgana was the most likely villainess to have helped Gold locate the Sorceror’s Hat forged by Merlin, and could possibly even have brought it to him from Camelot, depending on how close their association or what the Dark One might have to hold over Morgana’s head. The medieval witch was also commonly known to have a tie to water and lakes - some of her most fabled exploits happening near them in the Arthurian stories of old.

Needless to say, it was the best hunch Belle had to go on, and by the time she crested the same bluff her lover must have stood on some days before, looking down into the valley awash with moonlight and starshine glinting off the gently rippling waters, she felt both impatient and hesitant for whatever sight might greet her below. Reacting to her heightened nerves and the adrenaline which had brought her that far, the little one within began kicking hard against her side once again in protest as Belle planted her palm against a tree trunk, leaning on it for a moment as she caught her breath. Once her pulse steadied, Belle crept forward, hoping to peer over the rise of the embankment without being seen herself.

However, what she saw chilled the very blood in her veins, her mouth drying out in frightened horror. As if awaiting her arrival for a reluctant witness, two shrouded figures turned toward the lake, one clearly Rumple in bearing with his signature cane at his side. Even as she watched, breathless, appalled that she might already be too late and have no way to stop what was in motion, Belle couldn’t help inching a bit closer to the brink, her curious mind still wondering even in the midst of her fear.

As she did so, small bits of dirt and pebbles shifted and fell down the rise toward the rocky shore below. She jerked backwards, afraid they would be noticed as larger rocks and clods were gathered in their wake, soft, pattering, falling noises sounding along with them as well. Though it was far from a tumbling avalanche, in the hush of the charged atmosphere it seemed incredibly loud. And the damage had already been done.

Both figures at the water’s edge swung around from the lake at the unexpected movement and sound behind them. Despite Morgana’s already having down something to make the surface swirl like an ominous whirlpool, lit at intervals by sinister lightning flashes from within and casting a greenish glow over the surroundings, neither one had missed Belle’s ill-timed blunder and were scanning the area sharply, on the alert.

Though she dared not stir further, or even breathe, it was all for naught. Whether by some sixth sense or vast magical skill, her location had already been pinpointed. Morgana raised her right hand with an almost regal ease, palm out toward Belle, and beckoned her forward, the gesture ultimately proving to be a command the petite librarian simply couldn’t fight. Compelled as if her limbs and motions were not her own, Belle found herself drawn forward from her hiding spot and down the gentle slope at a steady, unwavering pace she was unable to stop, and momentarily she found herself standing before her former guardian and his powerful compatriot, still held motionless and silent by whatever command had drawn her forward.

The enchantress chuckled lightly, a wickedly sharp-nailed finger raising the Belle’s chin to meet her maliciously gleaming eyes. “You are a pretty little thing, aren’t you?” she asked with false compliment. “No need for you to lurk in the shadows.”

Rumple drew nearer then, leaning in until Belle shivered despite her inability to move in any other capacity. She didn’t know whether to expect anger, gloating, wistful explanation or some mix of all of them from this man and beast she had once tried to show love. Shaking his head as if he could truly feel sadness or regret, he brushed a hand along her cheek in a lingering touch she wanted badly to shake off. Yet she couldn’t even narrow her eyes in warning.

“My, my, Belle,” he murmured at last, his voice soft and sleek, but no less dangerous than a coiled snake lying in wait. “I thought you wanted nothing more to do with me, hmm?”

She longed to spit a response to that, to accuse him for whatever doom he was about to unleash upon his home and all of those around him just to get what he wanted, to snap out that though an actual wild animal resided beneath Graham’s skin, he was nothing like the beast Rumplestiltskin had allowed himself to become. Still, it was all trapped within her throat by the spell holding her captive.

Shaking his head slightly, the Dark One tsked at her as if he were a gently chiding parent with a wayward child. “Oh dearie, dearie, dear… you have gotten yourself into trouble this time, haven’t you my little bookworm? Whatever are we going to do with you?”


	7. ~chapter six: all comes down to this

_ ~ chapter six: all comes down to this _

The lake surface before her, over her two frightening opponents’ shoulders, continued to swirl and churn uneasily, quite obviously part of whatever rite was about to be performed. The sinister flashes of sickly greenish-yellow light drew her attention with lurid flair despite the more pressing threats standing right before her.

“W- What  _ are _ you going to do?” Belle countered with as much gumption as she could manage, regardless of the reasonable fear that also gripped her. She lifted her chin, now that they were face-to-face, and she discovered - grateful for small mercies - she was free to move again and could at least stare down the man she had wasted so much hope and energy on, letting him know with all the venom a gaze could muster that she was finally aware; he was nothing more than the selfish coward he had always been. That didn’t make him any less dangerous, of course, and Belle had a stray moment of absurd pride in herself that her voice had only wavered once in speaking to him. 

Morgana for her part, seemed to have lost interest the moment she’d gathered Belle wasn’t a magical threat or some unknown foe, had released her paralyzing unnatural grip, and taken a step back when Rumple moved forward to deal with his former maid, but Belle couldn’t comfortably take her eyes off the dark-robed and frighteningly cold-eyed woman for more than a few seconds. She could see the cylinder containing Merlin’s hat, just as it had been depicted in the source she’d found, idly held in the enchantress’ hand - and the power radiating from either the talisman or the sorceress herself, or quite possibly both, was so palpable it raised the small hairs on her arms, even without possessing any magical abilities herself.

Yawning and inspecting her nails for a moment, as if the fact that her conspirator was trying to decide the fate of an innocent right beside her was so common as to bore her, the woman finally flicked startling, almost violet eyes toward Rumple, raising a dark brow in question at his hesitation. “Well, are you handling this disruption or should I?” Her hand not clutching the hat slid from within the fold of her robe once more, unfurling toward Belle in a way that signalled only malicious intent, but Rumple gave a sharp shake of his head, arm jerking out to forestall her action. “You  _ will _ leave her to me,” he spoke harshly, with as much command as she had ever heard.

Morgana huffed and turned back toward the lake, stalking away with the rigid poise Belle couldn’t help but liken with a shiver to the now-deceased former mayor and Evil Queen, only saying as she did, “Well, be quick about it. We cannot lose the hour.”

Belle’s heart almost regained a normal rhythm for a moment, and she readied herself to speak, knowing she might only get one chance to convince him or get him to see reason. He was only slightly less daunting than the powerful stranger, in that she did know some of his weaknesses, the regrets and hurts that hid beneath the beastly mask, and if he had lost all desire to fight off the evil within, then she could still appeal to a different area of his self interest. He had wanted to find his son for as long as she had known him, and he had a grandson right there who would surely accept him still if he only tried; however, murderous vengeance and a spree of unstoppable destruction would endanger both of those things she knew he still wanted.

Before she could put any of those things into audible words, however, Rumple drew even nearer, his eyes glittering with an unholy light. Though his skin was far from the glittering scales she remembered in their fairy tale world, and his suit was fitted to the normal human pawnbroker he meant to portray here, Belle was struck vividly by his likeness to the mad imp she’d once shared a castle with - the Dark One’s prisoner before she had ever been the Evil Queen’s. She was struck suddenly by the real danger she had put, not only herself, but she and Graham’s child, in and the sickening knowledge that if madness and lust for ultimate power had already overtaken his reasoning, then there would be no reaching him as she had hoped.

Indeed they were so close now, he was practically in her face. The look on his stony visage, sharp and uncaring as she had ever seen it, was completely at odds with the gesture of his hand coming up to stroke her smooth, fair cheek once more almost wistfully. She flinched at the touch, and he pulled away instantly at her reaction, the strange detachment vanishing and being replaced with disgust and outrage.

Both stunned Belle, as they seemed emotions more due herself than him, but the words he spat made her blood run cold - and cemented the error in judgement she had made in coming here. It had already been much,  _ much  _ too late for reasoning.

“You dare to recoil from me?” he hissed, the mere elder gentleman facade sliding from his features at last and revealing the hideous green monster that did indeed resemble a crocodile with razor-sharp teeth to devour, much as Killian had always said. “When you…” his chest almost heaved with rage and indignation, “you let that cur touch you and you’re carrying his mongrel whelp?”

Belle stumbled back aghast at the venom for her unborn child, as stung as if he had physically struck her. Her mind reeled at the hatred he could have for a mere fetus of no threat to him and completely innocent of any ill or wrong, and she stretched her hand in an impotent protective gesture across her midsection as she gasped and stared at the unrecognizable man before her, no longer anyone she had ever known.

“You think I don’t see what you’re about my ‘Beauty’?” he gave the fairy tale appellation an almost mocking sing-song cadence as he made up the distance she had backed away, bringing them close once again. “You came here thinking you could appeal to the poor spinner who once tried to please you, who hoped to be “good” enough to make you happy, only to spare that lot of foolish heroes, the one you’ve replaced me with, and that abomination you carry within you. Let’s be rid of that delusion now…  _ No deal. _ ” He spoke icily, reaching toward her as she shook her head ‘no’, pleading soundlessly as tears of shock and terror streamed down her face, “Rumple, please,” she whispered brokenly, “don’t come any closer.”

Gripping her arm so that she couldn’t back away again, his clutch like an iron shackle at her wrist, Rumple’s other hand rested on the growing swell of her stomach, just above hers that still tried to shield the gentle curve from his touch. “Perhaps,” he murmured silkily, the calm resolve of deadly intent even more appalling than the unhinged rage and hurt had been. “Perhaps I should provide a demonstration of just how little any of those things you treasure, that you would hope to preserve, matter to me in the face of receiving my due at last.”

Belle was still shaking her hand in denial, trying to pull away frantic with desperation to free herself. It was all to no avail though, as his palm contracted on her stomach briefly, pressing firmly for a horribly long moment, and then he turned and strode purposefully back to his compatriot, who had been watching the whole exchange with fiendish glee once it had turned in the Dark One’s favor - almost as if she were sated by despair and anguish.

The scene before her blurred then, the effect of whatever Rumple had done creating a slight delay before it hit her and brought Belle to her knees. Her vision swam, the ground below and sky above spinning dizzily and exchanging places. A horrible pulling, tightening ache expanded from behind her naval out through the rest of her body, until she was falling to her side and curling in upon herself, every inch of her pulsing with pain.

And then she was screaming in utter agony, knew she was but still unable to stop, as if even her own reactions were now out of her control. All she knew was that her surroundings continued to dim and focused mainly on Morgana and Rumple’s legs as they stood by the rising whirlpool the lake had become, clearly continuing with their ritual, her inconvenient interruption of no further consequence.

Just as everything was about to fade away from her, she heard the unmistakable long howl of a wolf on the night wind answering her tormented cry. For that one second, she wasn’t even sorry that Graham must have woken to find her gone and followed her. Her heart panged in recognition, hoping she could see him before everything went dark. Her mind lamented brokenly on how foolish she had been to ever come here, and yet she waited on a held breath, still pained and terrified, but pricked more by conscience at the hurt her love would suffer if her rash actions had brought harm to their little one as well.

She knew Rumple and Morgana must have heard the warning cry as well, but her mind was too foggy and confused to focus on what they were doing from where she lay. All she saw, with grateful eyes, was a large, russet-colored wolf bursting from the brush above, near where she had been hiding not that long ago, and then plunging, teeth bared, to her side. Through her bleary, half-conscious perception, she found herself vaguely glad he was a wolf at that moment. It seemed so daunting, powerful - almost invincible to harm, even if not fully the case. True, both of these magic wielders he faced were powerful enough to be a threat to man or beast, but there was something solid, strong and intimidating, about the large lupine creature of old that Belle genuinely hoped would strike fear into the Dark One, down deep where he was still a coward at heart.

Once he reached the bottom of the slope, her wolf was at her side in seconds, a mere couple loping strides for the large animal’s ground-covering speed. Though his every quivering muscle was tensed and ready, his fur practically standing on end and a low growl rumbling constantly from the wide chest, the concern radiating off the man twined into the werewolf’s being was plain. Tawny golden eyes never left the witch and wizard before them, also braced for action - both sides seeming to gauge what the other might do - but his shaggy, reddish-brown ruffed head dipped briefly to nose at her forehead and brow, a cold, wet nose reviving her if just a bit. A concerned whine, so soft in the canine throat that Belle felt sure only she could hear it, let her know just how frightened for her he had been - and was still.

Trying valiantly, with pained and weakly uncoordinated muscles, she attempted to lift her hand and stroke his fur in reassurance, but her hand fell limp against the ground before making solid contact, and the tender way her wolf licked at the back of it resting on the dirt pained her almost as much as whatever Rumple had done to her. It was too late to stop the process they had set in motion, despite her efforts. She had tricked and hidden her intentions from him, and led Graham into danger anyway, even as she had tried to protect him from harm.

They both watched warily as Morgana turned back toward the churning body of water, lifting her hands and causing the eerily lit typhoon to rise above its banks in a menacing swirl, clearly reacting to her magical direction. “Isn’t that sweet?” Gold mocked, affording them one last cruel glance before holding up the cylinder as Morgana directed. Manic avarice lit his gaze as it turned indeed into the recognizable shape of a tall, pointed sorceror’s hat. “You will die here together, with your repulsive whelp. It was a heroic effort - foolhardy and pointless, but heroic nonetheless, dearies, I’ll give you that.”   
  


Even as he turned back to his evil task, Graham appeared truly ready to spring and rip out the imp’s throat. The fact that one or the other of their enemies’ magic would no doubt strike him down before he could reach them, no longer seemed enough to hold the usually kind and gentle man back - not when his love and his unborn child’s lives were at stake. Belle looked up at him with tears in her eyes. If only she hadn’t thought she could handle this alone… If only she hadn’t been so stupid… If only...

Morgana’s resonant and chilling voice rose up over Rumple’s triumphant cackle of victory, her own soft sobs, Graham’s warning growl, and the whooshing of the rising waves towering over their heads now, chanting some incantation of what sounded like ancient rhyme. And then, before her spell could reach completion, everything seemed to happen at once. Behind them, scrambling down the same embankment with more cursing and less grace, came Emma and Killian - the pirate surprisingly in human rather than wolf form. All the same, they were there, flanking she and Graham and eying their adversaries for just one chink or weakness. 

Belle wanted to stand to face them head on rather than lying in the dirt, but another blinding shock of pain ripped through her, curling her up even further and causing her to bite almost through her lip to merely whimper rather than scream in agony. Oddly, it struck her that even if they were too late to stop this ritual, if all of Rumple’s powers were unleashed again, they would still stand up to him together, and even if he took out the four - well, the five, of them her mind amended with a shudder - there were others on their side yet, and good would find a way. She had probably never sounded more like Snow or Henry, but somehow in this terrifying meeting with what might be their end, she somehow felt faith returning.

“Oh, how quaint,” Morgana simpered, “it’s the Savior herself and her own pirate knight.” She tilted her head slightly, as if considering them all like they were some sort of entertainment. With a dismissive gesture, she then levitated the cylindrical talisman, making it open and morph into the hat twirling in air. “You must know that you are too late to stop us, that soon you will be in the presence of an all-powerful Dark One, in the face of whom all attempts at resistance or control will be futile, and yet here you stand - as if it will do some good.”

As she spoke, the water crested even higher, towering over all their heads and the enchanted contents of the hat burst forth in multicolored light festooned across the sky above them like a new map of constellations.

Yet, in that unnatural glow, even as Rumple also laid the dagger on the ground beneath the levitating hat, making their preparations complete, a horrifying vision suddenly appeared before their eyes, not of Rumplestiltskin once more the cruelly green and glittering crocodile with sharp jaws wide to devour them, there is instead a terrible beauty. Morgana was the ultimate Dark One emblazoned with sudden clarity, silhouetted in unearthly flame as she reached out an unstoppable arm to crush them all. It was seconds from coming to pass, and suddenly Belle could see it unspooling with horrifying clarity. The sorceress, whatever her connection to Rumple, had never intended to aid him in cleaving himself from restraint. Instead, she meant to take his power for herself and full dominion over the realms as well. Just as her compatriot had needed the hat she could bring, she had needed his dagger to make her devious designs complete. This enchantress had somehow managed to convince the best manipulator Belle had ever known to believe she owed, or felt, some loyalty to him. Enough so that Rumplestiltskin had already laid down his jealously guarded weapon and protection in one at Morgana’s feet.

Without time to think, to plan, seemingly even to breathe, Belle knew what to do. It came to her with galvanizing certainty, a realization that rocked her to the core, even as the beams of power, like golden threads were streaming from dagger to hat to Rumple and back again over to Morgana as she chanted; a subtle, knowing gleam in her eyes now that the librarian was looking clearly. The beams looped and re-circled back in and out between the four points of contact, both villains finally distracted by their greedy focus on the brilliant light magic and the tendrils of the dark as well, coming off of Gold and from the dagger itself, then rising in ghostly wisps to intertwine in a mantle that seemed to lie about Morgana’s shoulders.

Time moved as if strangely delayed as Belle lurched forward unsteadily, still unable to rise fully to her feet and run for her goal, still almost blinded by the pain centered in her abdomen, she soldiered on, almost rolling and then pulling herself the last few inches forward, sheerly on the desperate strength of her arms and shoulders.

Her fingertips barely grazed the now quivering hat, even as the magic seemed to sense the last strands of power from Rumple himself and the dagger, now centering over Morgana, and also to fully enliven the ancient token. Graham saw where she was going and pounced forward, practically leaping over her prone form to keep the witch away from her. Emma swung toward Gold with her own hands up, magic flickering to life between them to ward him off as well if need be. 

That proved unnecessary though, as Rumple cried out, an unearthly expression of rage, pain and bitterness when he discovered all too viscerally what Morgana had done and the extent of her betrayal. As the last vestiges of his power wreathed his former partner in crime, making her whole being glow insidiously, the hat sunk back to the ground, practically dancing upon the hard earth, shaking and moving so wildly from the amount of power thrumming between it and the Darkness’ new vessel - and it sought out more to drain from its surroundings.

“No!” the twisted imp wailed; no longer either smug pawnbroker nor controlling Dark One, but the poor, bent spinner so helpless and afraid of the world around him before magic had ever come into his life. “What have you done, you foul hag?! You’ll not even live to regret this.” Yet, even as he bellowed, his own self-maimed foot curled in again, his body bending weakly as he sought out the cane he needed not just as a dramatic embellishment any longer.

Gritting her teeth and exerting her last bit of strength, Belle managed to reach the tips of her fingers far enough to brush against the active hat. She was grasping at last chances, hoping against hope that she had timed her move correctly, that the villainess was too taken by the feeling of victory and the swell of power to notice a mere distraction as the last bits of both the Darkness and its magic settled upon her. Feeling the deceptively soft and inviting material of the hat’s wall, Belle bit her lip, said a hopeful prayer, and shoved the hat over to rest on its side, making sure to grasp the tip as she had seen detailed in her research, so that the opening, now seething as though it were a living and breathing thing, was pointed right at Morgana.

The sorceress’ unnaturally violet eyes landed on her then, widening in anger and zeroing in with a wicked shriek. “What are you doing, you measelly little girl? Haven’t you learned your lesson yet?” She made as if to stride forward and swipe the object from Belle’s grasp, but it was already too late. Belle had gotten the hat centered on their foe in time, and now Morgana was in its vortex, its sucking power already pulling at her robes and whipping her raven-dark hair about her head wildly, drawing her inexorably into itself.

“Nooooo…” the witch screeched, but she was already elongating in form, being swallowed up into the void of the Sorceror’s hat. Her final thwarted wail faded away slowly, even as Belle let her arms fall to the ground, nearly drained once more. But she couldn’t quite rest, no matter how much her body begged for it; they had to take this chance to be rid of the Darkness while they could - once and for all. 

The foreseeable immediate threat gone, she sensed almost as much as saw Graham shifting back into the man she loved, already calling her name as he ran to her side. Emma was closer, kneeling beside her and asking where she was hurt, what she could do, even as Killian still flanked them both, eyes sweeping the area as if waiting for more foes to descent. She could hear Rumple in the background, groaning and snivelling, but Belle struggled to focus just one minute more.

There! Right by Killian’s boot, near the once more nondescript looking pointed cloth hat lying calmly on the ground, was the dagger. “Killian,” she gaped breathlessly. “The dagger, give it to me. Quick!”

Thankfully the pirate didn’t question her, merely bent, grabbed the item he had quested so long to hold in his hand, the means for his long postponed revenge at last in his grasp, and handed it over to her without even flinching. It reiterated the difference between himself and his nemesis, Belle realized later when she thought back over the whole thing, how he could hand over the one thing he had once most desired due to the judgement that something else was better and worth the sacrifice. It was the same reason he had shown up as a human, even if his wolf was physically stronger. He wanted to support Emma, in whatever way would help her most, and so had done what allowed him to be most fully by her side. It was a sort of strength and power Rumplestiltskin had never mastered for all the magic he had held in his fingertips… the ability to share oneself fully with another and drawn strength from the bond.

Gripping the dagger’s hilt tightly, feeling the cool edges against her palm, the satisfying weight of it, now that it would finally be doing what it had been forged for, one way or another. She raised it as much as she could, and plunged the tip into the hat. Sharp steel sliced through material, piercing deep, and she waited, breath held tightly, the blade going all the way through both sides of the hat and into the ground beneath, until slowly, with a thick black cloud spewing forth before rising and evaporating into the sky, the hat disintegrated into nothingness itself. The hat was gone, and supposedly, hopefully, so was the Darkness at long last. Though it almost seemed to much to trust might finally be true after ages of battle to conquer it.

Tossing the weapon aside, Belle heaved a sigh of relief, glad she finally felt as if those around her, those she loved, were safe. As she did so however, the pain and the weakness crept back over her, making her vision swim sickly again. Another violent throb of pain ratcheted through her, and she cried out in spite of herself, unprepared for the severity of it. She shivered, hardly registering that she felt as though she had gotten her legs in the water, even if that sensation made absolutely no sense.

“Belle!” she heard Graham’s hoarse tone call out to her in alarm, and then he was there, cradling her head and shoulder in his lap and begging Emma’s help; the only one of them who still had any sort of magic that might be able to fix whatever Rumple had done and was still wrecking havoc within her. It all seemed to be growing more distant and of less concern to her, as she let herself since back into her love’s comforting embrace. They were safe now, she thought, appeased from her own worry and self-recrimination with that knowledge. And then all was quiet.


	8. chapter seven: what once was mine

~ chapter seven: what once was mine

“Emma! Help her, please!” Graham’s frantic voice pulled Emma back to focus on the present crisis. He was crouched at his love’s side, gathering her tiny form as close to him from off the cold, bare ground as possible - clearly torn between brushing her hair from her slack face, trying to watch for further danger, and being sure some help was coming all at once.

Emma was almost startled to see her boss and friend in his familiar human form, all wiry limbs and curly hair once more instead of the russet wolf he had been when placing himself between Morgana and the woman he loved; the woman carrying his unborn child. Instead of noting when he had switched back to the genial sheriff she knew, all her focus, all her attention and power, had been trained on the huge flash and buzz and humming pull of energy both to and from the villainous beings before her. For a truly frightening, paralyzing stretch all of the gathered magic of Rumplestiltskin, and each and every Dark One who had come before, had been contained within Morgana, forcing all of them to shield their eyes and stumble back at the sheer wall of power surging outward from where the sorceress had stood, suddenly seeming to tower over them, her long shadow stretching out to encompass every visible inch of ground in view. With sickening clarity, Emma had known as their adversary tranformed before them that this double cross had been Morgana’s intention all the time. While she might once have been Gold’s ally and pupil, she had intended to take his power for herself rather than helping him be rid of the dagger. And she had so very nearly succeeded that the horrifying vision of a monstrous, unstoppable witch harnessing her own powers and those of every Dark One who had come before her, reigning over the fabled kingdom of Camelot and their own world with a iron fist of cruelty, destruction, and terror had been all too real in Emma’s mind’s eye. She could see castles crumbling, kingdoms bowing, and ordinary people enslaved to Morgana’s twisted will with no hope of release. 

Now however, beyond her knowledge or understanding - she hadn’t even had time to try - the evil sorceress was gone, vanquished with a roar of fruitless rage and flash of light. There had barely been time for her stunned eyes to take in the smoky dark cloud of sinister residue swirling into the thick tome where Belle had embedded the dagger, blinking in staggered disbelief, before Graham’s panicked voice and the librarian’s harsh gasps for breath jerked her back to the present. 

Emma wasn’t slow on the uptake, now that her focus was on the remaining crisis rather than their foe. It was clear Belle had been sent into a frighteningly early labor; her body in intense physical distress as a result. But, as much as Emma did possess magic and anxiously desired to help, she had no idea what to do. A wave of helplessness and panic swamped her momentarily, before she surfaced again, realizing exactly what she could manage.

Reaching a hand to rest on Graham’s forearm, trembling with fear for his beloved, she drew his worried eyes to her serious gaze, willing her certainty to infuse him with some sort of confidence in their course. “Hey, hey… Graham,” she pressed seriously, making sure she had his understandably torn focus, coaxing him back. “Are you with me? Listen, okay? I don’t know a whole lot about delivering babies - magically or otherwise - but I do know that Belle ought to be in a hospital, not out here lying on the cold ground. Let me transport us there, and you’ll be in clean surroundings with people who know what they’re doing, alright?”

The sheriff gave her a curt nod of either agreement, understanding, or both, but she could see the dark cloud of worry and self-recrimination gathering on his brow. Though he was clearly bracing himself for her proposed magical travel, and making his best effort to shield and cushion Belle at the same time, Emma could read his fearful churning thoughts almost as plainly as if he had spoken them aloud. Babies, yes, Storybrooke’s small hospital and capable staff had probably managed the births of many just fine, but a human-werewolf hybrid pup? It had been anybody’s guess what that delivery would look like anyway - and that was before the situation had become even more difficult.

Still, Emma knew better than to let the pressure and panic overwhelm her again. She was determined to help them all she could. One task at a time; it was the only way she was going to get anywhere.

Crouching next to her boss, Emma clutched Belle’s clammy, quivering hand, thinking just how tiny her bookworm friend’s petite frame really was. She couldn’t help another nervous flutter of the heart wondering how big the baby was already with its accelerated gestation, and praying Belle wouldn’t be torn apart by something she had wished and hoped for so fervently; that she should live and thrive in. Belle would be such a wonderful mom, and she deserved her chance. She deserved so much happiness after all that she had weathered; Emma figured she had survived enough herself to know.

Thankfully, though it was light, she felt Belle manage to press her fingers in return, once more centering her in the present and what she needed to do first. The grip was tenuous, but as their sprightly little librarian squeezed Emma’s hand in return - still fighting and hanging in there every step of the way, Emma felt hope rekindle that Belle would battle through. With that, she tightened her other hand’s hold on Graham, willing herself not to tremble and broadcast her fears to him any more than she could help. Relief flooded through her as she felt Killian’s large, solid hand rest on her back, linking them and letting her know he was with her, wordlessly soothing and strong. She was going to need him once they arrived at the hospital, Belle was wheeled away, and the rest of the delivery was out of her hands. She didn’t really know how to do anything more, but the waiting, the flagging adrenaline, and coming down from all they had just seen - she knew that she would be a mess if he weren’t there. And she was thankful all over again that he seemed - as always - to simply know and understand that, just as he always had. They were made for each other in a way she’d never even believed in enough to realize what she’d been missing. But she wouldn’t ever want to do without him again.

Remembering what little she had figured out about her magic for certain (and it wasn’t much, with the only magical experts in town evil or the Blue Fairy - whom her mother trusted implicitly, but who strangely unnerved Emma - Emma had been attempting to teach herself as best she could) Emma forced herself to slow her breathing, close her eyes, feel for those she wished to protect, and picture nothing beyond where she intended them to go. Pushing that gathered swell of energy outwards, she sooned sensed dizzying movement beyond her closed eyelids. And when she opened her eyes, they had made it - all of them - in one piece, to Storybrooke General.

They had barely landed and gained their bearings when medical personal rushed toward them, their need clear from the agonizing wails now leaving Belle’s mouth all too clearly. Soon a whole phalanx of nurses and orderlies were whisking her off on a stretcher, Graham clutching her hand and keeping pace beside it until they forced him to let go and stay behind. Emma and Killian could only watch as he trudged back to where they stood in the open reception area. There was nothing else for them to do but wait...

~~~**~~~**~~~**~~~

Back in the lakeside clearing - suddenly empty and eerily, starkly, silent - a single person remained, barely standing on his own two feet in shock. The man’s breath rasped weakly from all-too-human lungs, in a way it had not done for centuries. Rumplestiltskin was frozen, shocked and surprised; a state that had become completely foreign after ages of premonition and foreknowledge made surprises rare indeed. The twisted, maimed and spindly legs which magic had made immaterial all these years were barely holding his weight, and he sunk slowly to crouch on the rocky ground at the water’s edge.

The events of the last hour were still sinking in it seemed. Some corner of his brain was already crying out in horror; the rest of his senses struggling to catch up and comprehend his utter ruin. He had become so reliant upon - so addicted - to the immense powers of all the Dark Ones within his puny frame, that the weight of his vulnerability, weakness, and fear seemed near to crushing as the long-forgotten feebleness crept back into his conscious like monstrous shadows across the floor.

Rumple made to stand up again, but found his limbs quivering and drained. Without thinking, he flourished the hand that would summon him his heavy, gold-topped cane, but nothing happened. No cane appeared, not a trace of magic raced through his fingers… only emptiness remained. 

It was then that the full consequence of his devious grasping and false alliance struck home within his breast. Morgana had double-crossed him; he could see now in clear hindsight that it had been her intention from the start to siphon the forces of the Darkness into her own being to at last wreak her own revenge on her half-sibling and claim Camelot for herself - a frighteningly magnificent dark Queen. He had been blinded by his need for vengeance, his believed invulnerability, and not seen the deal that had brought downfall until it was too late. She had paid with her freedom and her very being, now trapped - for all time, as far as he knew - within the book by Belle’s saving action. Yet, the swift retribution on the one who had betrayed him was cold comfort in the wake of his own punishment.

Rumplestiltskin, the poor village spinner still at heart, was once more what he had vowed never to be again: a crawling, weak, pathetic coward, left to his own pitiful devices to be trampled beneath the heels of those stronger than himself. The fact that Hook and his other adversaries, along with the woman he had once loved, were gone as well, rather than staying to torment him, gave little peace. He was not sure he could even drag himself back to his shop and in from the elements - nor what the point would be in doing so.

It was an interminable amount of time before he could even gain enough support from a stout tree trunk nearby to pull himself to stand. Stooped and wavering, Rumple broke off a large enough branch to use as a sort of crutch and help him hobble forward before collapsing with panted breath on a large rock. Did he even wish to return? Or should he wait for some wild animal or new threat to put him out of his torment and misery at last?

A howl of desperate rage escaped his lips as he let his head fall back in exhausted defeat. The fact that he was finally reaping what ages of his own crooked dealings and treachery had sown was not lost on the former Dark One, but it made the collapse all the more bitter to swallow. He might have even felt the sting of true regret as he began to hobble from the forest… but it was too little, and much too late.

~~~**~~~**~~~**~~~

Somewhere in the halls of Storybrooke’s hospital, as Whale and the rest of his most capable personnel fought for the life of both the tenacious young town librarian and her first child, Belle floated hazily beyond awareness of what was happening around her. Though the moments preceding her descent into unconsciousness had been fraught with fear and horror - the deep desire to prove her worth, to stop her maniacal former love’s quest to destroy all those she held dear - she was ignorant of all that worry and trauma now. It was a fitful state, far from the bliss of perfect rest, but she was no longer aware enough to be troubled by the many cares and concerns which had been weighing on her.

Unfortunately, she was also oblivious to the fact that she was very much in labor. She and Graham’s little one was on its way whether she was awake to push or not, whether it was time or not, and whether or not her body was ready or capable of delivering it safely. As she continued to lie helpless and unaware on the operating table, it became clear that an emergency Caesearean section was the only way to go - and immediately at that.

Whale was snapping out orders with a speed and fervency that most of his staff had never yet witnessed; generally seeing minor falls, broken arms or legs, and stubborn coughs and colds as their main health issues in Storybrooke’s sleepy environment. The fact that in another realm and long-gone life he had been a brilliant and pioneering scientist as well as an accomplished physician - if also an eccentric and a bit disturbed - became more abundantly clear as he continued to fight for the woman on their table, her life in their hands.

Graham, for his part, was going nearly mad outside in the hall where he had been forced to wait with the rest of their friends and family. His rapid pacing and clutching at clumps of his hair, even more curling and unruly than normal from his distraught mistreatment, was nearly enough to make Killian wince and try to warn his new friend to calm down. However, the other wolf managed to bite his tongue and hold the words back. For one thing, such a suggestion would almost certainly be useless. Clearly the sheriff couldn’t relax until they knew that Belle was out of danger. Not only that, but Killian felt it was not his place to tell others how to handle grief or strife (he had never been a very good model of it himself) and beside that simple truth, it would be incredibly hypocritical of him, seeing as how if it were Emma lying where Belle was, fighting to survive bringing a pup of his into the world, and he were in Graham’s place, he would be faring no better, and quite possibly even worse.

Time seemed to trickle by at first, as if the clock in the waiting room were taunting them, the two hands moving at a crawl, just when they most needed them to hurry along. Eventually, Snow, who had arrived with David and Henry in the midst of their wait, accompanied by Ruby, who had already been at the hospital to report on the diner to a recovering and once again tart and no-nonsense Granny Lucas, to help her carry, went down to the hospital cafeteria to fetch some sort of breakfast for them all. David sat in the chair in the corner, looking resolutely calm, as if he could will things to fall into the proper place simply by projecting assured confidence with enough certainty. He couldn’t very well do much else, as his grandson had fallen asleep sometime around two a.m. and Henry’s dark mop of brown hair was still resting on his shoulder gaining what sleep he could. No one wished to take peaceful rest away from the preteen, whom they still wanted to shield from the worst if possible. No matter how helpful and mature he tried to be, he was still a kid with a child’s innocence and already more involved than they would have preferred.

Yet, as slowly as the minutes had seemed to crawl all through the long night and early morning, just as the stars were beginning to fade in the sky outside the large windows at one end of the waiting room, those minutes also appeared to jolt into motion and rush forward once more when Dr. Whale at last entered the room and made his way toward them. Emma genuinely felt as if her heart was crowding up into her windpipe, stoppering her ability to breathe and pounding against the roof of her mouth. The notorious physician looked exhausted; his shoulders bowed and dark circles beneath his eyes; he seemed disheveled, his hair stood even more wildly on end than usual, as if pulled at or run through in anxiety and frustration so many times it could no longer lie still, and the residue of blood and other materials Emma didn’t even want to consider too closely stained a swath at the front of his scrubs.

He came to a stop before Graham, and Emma tried to mentally prepare herself for whatever his report might be. Watching Graham as closely as she was, she could see that though he was mastering a sort of stoic, calm patience as he stood to receive news of Belle’s condition, his body swayed the tiniest bit - as if the awful words he might hear could knock him off his feet, never to rise as tall and straight again. His whole world rested on what the doctor was about to say, and as steady as he might appear, everyone else in the room with him knew it.

“Sheriff Humbert,” Whale spoke up solidly, reaching out a hand to shake Graham’s, “you’re the proud father of twins. Fraternals - a boy and a girl.”

He paused briefly as the other man’s face positively lit up - joy, relief, pride, anxiousness and love all coming together in his expression as it transformed from the frozen mask of worry and fear it had held for the past several hours. The sheriff returned Whale’s hand clasp, shaking enthusiastically for several seconds before looking over his shoulder at Killian and Emma, and then to David on his other side. “Twins…” he repeated in a stunned sort of awe. “Can you believe that?”

Whale nodded in rather unnecessary confirmation, not seeming at all surprised by Graham’s excitement, nor his immense relief. “I’m sorry it took me so long to get out here with the news, but I wanted to make absolutely certain that Ms. French’s vitals had stabilized and that she was resting comfortably,” he continued seriously, giving Emma a nod of acknowledgement over Graham’s shoulder. “We’re honestly very lucky you had Miss Swan with you, to get her here quickly without allowing any more precious time to pass than it did, nor for Belle to exert herself any more than she had to for the delivery. As it was, those two bundles of joy took almost all she had. It was a lot of strain on such a small frame - and in such a wildly shortened timespan. I had feared I wouldn’t be able to give this promising an update, but she seems to be rebounding better than I could have expected. She’ll need to be careful to allow her body time to heal, take things slowly…”

By that point, Graham was nodding along in agreement with such attentiveness that Whale grinned crookedly; the expression both a bit unnerving and knowing, but which was nevertheless part of his eccentric charm. He chuckled easily and concluded, “But I think I can count on you, Sheriff Humbert, to make sure she does just that.”

Without wasting more time, he gave a few cautions and warnings, and assured Graham that he was free to go and see both his offspring and his partner, as long as he didn’t agitate or overexcite Belle. It seemed that the feisty woman who had completely captured their Huntsman’s heart needed more rest than she even now wanted to admit. Shaking his head with the sort of amused and doting affection that was clearly going to become habit if they were to spend the rest of their lives together, Graham fervently thanked Whale for all he had done - shaking the doctor’s hand once more, so enthusiastically that the other man’s teeth clacked against each other loudly. Then he took off down the hall toward the elevators at a trot, too anxious to see his little ones and to reach the side of his lady love once again to be able to hold himself back.

Whale shrugged to Emma and Killian, a sort of ‘I expected as much’ expression on his face, and they grinned in return, largely just relieved to know for certain that the worst was over. Offering their own thanks as well as the sheriff’s, Whale nodded to each in turn and then spun on his heel to go back to his other patients and chores.

As his wiry form disappeared around a corner at the end of the hall, Emma at last released the tense breath she had still been holding. It was almost as if she had needed to know that Belle would pull through and there was nothing more she could - or should - have done differently before she could completely relax. Looking up into Killian’s clear blue eyes as she leaned into his side, Emma could see his affection clearly - and drew even more assurance and strength from him. For once, they had gotten the best possible outcome instead of their worst case scenario, as often struck them in the dealings with villains and magic that Storybrooke seemed to instigate. Everyone was going to be fine, and Emma couldn’t be happier - even if she did feel like she needed to hibernate for a month to regain the adrenaline now vacating her body and recover from the fear and shock that had gripped them all from the moment they arrived at the standoff until Whale affirmed that the crisis was over.

“Come, my brave lass,” Killian murmured gently into the downy-fine hair at her brow bone, gathering her closer still and taking the weight she let him bear as she leaned on him more fully. “Let’s go home.”

Emma nodded blearily, already feeling hazy and half-asleep. They paused momentarily to make sure that David and Snow had Henry with them and would bring him by later. All three seemed determined to see Belle and the new arrivals before they left the premises. Emma was excited too - as she knew Kilian was - but they could wait until tomorrow. Right now, she was practically sleepwalking and not functioning well enough to string together congratulations which would make sense. She wanted to transport them instantaneously to her bedroom, but was afraid she might make a mistake in her current state.

Instead, she focused on merely putting one foot in front of the other and let Killian steer her forward, out the doors of the hospital entrance and into the grey pre-dawn light.


	9. epilogue: two very happy beginnings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is at long last -- the conclusion to my CSSNS werewolf saga! I honestly think I was having a hard time saying goodbye to these versions of all of them. Still, I'm sorry those who have been following this had to wait so long! Thanks you so much for reading and for sticking with me on this venture. Enjoy the happy ending (beginning)! :)

_ ~ epilogue: two very happy beginnings _

After all the trouble and fear which had preceded their birth, and the risk their mother had endured to deliver them, there was nothimg but bliss surrounding Belle and Graham’s newborns once they arrived. Both were peaceful and content babies, seeming fit and healthy and perfectly adorable in every way - no furry toes, lupine ears, or anything else which one might have wondered about with such unusual origins and accelerated gestation. All of their organs and extremities were fully formed and working well; an immense relief to their mother and father, who were already desperately enamored of them, and the friends and makeshift family who had gathered around them in support.

In fact, the only real hint at their supernatural heritage was that both already had adorable ringlets of a deep russet brown, much the same color as Belle’s, though the curls were all Graham at his most disheveled, when fingers had been carded through it repeatedly. Both had the most adorable, cherubic chubby-cheeked faces that anyone who looked on them would agree they had ever seen, and they had charmed nearly every nurse in the ward where Belle had been moved for observation during her recovery, with barely more than a blink, a gurgle, or the single wave of a pudgey little hand. It seemed - much to the dismay of their numerous new admirers - that Belle would almost certainly be cleared to leave soon, as she seemed to be mending remarkably well.

In the meantime, however, Graham had taken a full paternity leave from the station in order to fuss over her protectively to his own satisfaction, promoting Emma to acting sheriff for the time being, and her dad and her wolf man both as deputies. Belle had tried to reason that it wasn’t necessary, that she was in good hands, and that she already felt much better, but he was having none of it; intent on being right by her side and at her beck and call with an almost desperate physical need. He come so close to losing her - her and the two precious pups he already loved more than life. He could not fathom how he would have survived if Belle had not. Even for someone who had spent much of his life in a solitary, isolated existence, loneliness still threatened to choke and suffocate him at the thought of losing her; the one person who had ever eased his burden and truly felt his pain - because, in many ways, it had been her own as well. The very idea of her presence fading from the world was overwhelming.

On rounding the corner into the hallway for his love’s room, he could hear raised voices and raucous laughter. Brow furrowing immediately, and hand rather damagingly tightening its clutch on the bag of chocolate croissants and takeaway cup of hot tea Belle had wheedled him into fetching for her, Graham’s hackles rose unbidden as he doubled his pace. Granted, the uproar sounded pleasant enough, but it wasn’t what he had expected to encounter upon his return, and Belle needed her rest, not well-meaning visitors overexciting her and wearing her out. Though he knew he was being ridiculous and bordering on driving Belle crazy with his caution and concern for her health, he couldn’t do much to stop the unbidden reactions that kept rising within him either. 

Wheeling into the room, ready to show her visitors out, Graham stopped short at the collection of people crowded into the small space, and Belle in the center of it all, cheeks flushed, eyes bright, and the happiest smile as she looked up to greet him.

“You’re back,” she crooned warmly, holding out her delicate hand for him to take, as well as to pull him closer. “Look! Can you believe this? Everyone wanted to see the twins and bring them gifts.”

Mary Margaret, at the foot of Belle’s bed, beamed at him and then Belle once more in turn. “Well, that is the best part of knowing someone with a little one,” she chipped in mischievously, “getting to spoil them with all the cutest toys and clothes.” 

Her husband beside her chuckled, his hand shaking with his mirth even as he pulled her into his side to affectionately press his lips to the top of her head. “Only you, Sweetheart,” he teased.

Henry practically bounced on the balls of his feets between his grandparents and his mom and Killian, clutching a gift bag he clearly hadn’t yet been able to give to Belle.

Ducking his head, Graham flushed at the thought that he had been about to banish them all from the room. One look at their faces showed they meant nothing but to help them both celebrate the joyous arrivals and Belle’s recovery; not to mention that one needed only to glance at the new mother for a second to see the good their visit had done.

Glancing sheepishly at his former liege, Graham nodded respectfully to Mary Margaret. “Thank you, truly, your Majesties, but… you didn’t have to do this… I mean, my Queen… Um, er, Snow?” Though both she and Charming had repeatedly let him know that bowing and formality were unnecessary, it was an adaptation the former Huntsman was still making, with varied amounts of success.

Snow reached out to press his upper arm with her hand, assuring him that the pleasure had been theirs, which he was grateful for - even as Emma and Killian on one side of the bed, and Ruby and Granny on the other, were set to laughing once more at his expense. Her husband smiled at her genuinely; that wide, magnanimous smile which let a person know that he was understood, that all was well, that he was seen and cared for by those called to rule and wear the crown of royalty - even if, in this world, that mark of leadership took the form of a deputy’s badge rather than a throne and lavish finery.

Taking pity on his awkward tendency in larger groups, Belle beckoned her love closer still, a gentle and knowing smile on her lips. “Maybe you’d like to help me make our announcement, since everyone seems to be here anyway,” she suggested, gazing up at Graham in sweet affection despite the heated blush that stole across his neck and the tips of his ears, though his stubble hid the pink of his cheeks.

Her sheriff nodded eagerly, knowing that their gathered group of friends and loved ones would be excited to hear the news, and he hoped, touched as well by the small gesture of thanks he and Belle were offering in return for their kindness and loyalty. To his mind, it could never come close to being enough, but it was something. Clasping Belle’s hand in his as he reached her side, Graham brought it up to his mouth, laying soft, chaste kisses to her knuckles one by one as they were intertwined by his own.

Looking back up into the faces of the fiercely protective tribe gathered round them, the man who had once faced the world completely alone found it particularly fitting that the twins were in the arms of Ruby and Emma. Since the little declaration they were about to make would touched those two fierce women most, it seemed almost kismet that those two would already be holding the little boy and girl. 

“As Belle already mentioned,” Graham began, a grin making its way across his face in spite of his dislike for the center of attention. This joyous moment was different, and he found himself almost beaming as those gathered before him looked up curiously at his words. “We have a couple of things we’d like to tell you. Seeing that we might not have reached this point so happily without all of you, it seemed only right that you be the first ones to know. These two cuties you’re all busy cuddling and spoiling within an inch of their lives…” At that, he gestured to the two happily gurgling littles ones, and his audience chuckled, knowing he had them with the spoiling. “These two new arrivals have names at last. Belle and I would very much like you to officially meet Rose Red and Hunter Henry.”

Oohs and ahhs over the perfection and adorability of their choices broke out all around, though no one’s enthusiasm was felt more than Henry’s. At hearing that the little boy cradled in his mom’s arms was sharing his first name for a middle one, Henry’s eyes bugged wide in sparkling excitement. Thrilled and bouncing even more than he had been previously, the young prince looked to Belle sweetly, thrilled beyond all reasoning. “You - you named him for  _ me _ ?” he repeated in awe.

Belle nodded, the smile she offered her young friend both kind and affectionately indulgent. Her eyes were more than a bit wide and glazed with a sheen of unshed tears as she wrapped him up in the hug he offered. “Of course we did!” she whispered in his ear emphatically. “You brought all of us back to our real selves with your belief. Who wouldn’t want their little ones to have a heart like yours?”

Graham leaned over to envelop them both in a fierce hug too before Henry and Belle could separate. His own voice was husky and rasped with stark emotion, but he spoke over the lump of feeling to second Belle’s response. “You were a light when so many of us had little else in this place - not even our true selves. You should know what a hero you are by now.”

Henry shook his head in disbelief, having a hard time swallowing such praise, even as it sent a wide, crooked smile across his face and pride stir within him. Yet, as he glanced around at everyone else in the room, they were nodding and affirming their agreement - from Ruby beaming at him widely, to his grandma’s teary joy, to his mom and Killian standing together, with his mom mouthing ‘He’s right, you are’ to him with a look of such parental approval and love that Henry hardly knew how to handle it.

Chuckling good naturedly, Ruby reached out to ruffle his hair, something he had begun to protest his mom doing (he wasn’t a little kid anymore!) but which didn’t seem to bother him when the pretty brunette werewolf did it. Her teasing and bright, toothy smile made the usual gripe die on his tongue and a flush creep up his neck instead. “Well, I’m not sure I’m even half so deserving as Henry,” Ruby jested, “but I’m still touched you’d put ‘Red’ in there for a middle name too.”

“Well…” Graham paused, drawing out his next words dramatically as he flicked yet another look over at Belle who nodded eagerly, biting back a giggle at the glint of mischief in his eye and at how happily surprised they were about to make her vivacious new friend. “It seemed only fair she carry a nod to one of her two godmothers in her name. That is… if you and Emma agree to take on that role.”

Ruby squealed with barely contained glee, stopping herself just in time from jumping up and down in her excitment and jostling the little girl dozing in her arms. “Are you serious?” she asked, dark eyes wide in awe and genuine surprise. “Me?... Truly?!?”

Belle clutched her hand, reaching out with kind approbation. “Truly and absolutely… we’d be honored.”

After a moment weighted with feeling and acceptance, all three turned their faces to Emma, who was blinking rapidly as she glanced up from Hunter’s cherubic countenance to return their gaze, and nodded wordlessly, offering a tremulous smile to her friends before finally managing to croak out, “Me too… absolutely.”

That afternoon took on a golden-tinged glow for all of them in reminiscence. Looking back on it at any time afterwards, that moment just after the twins’ birth was one of those scarce ones that only come along ever so rarely, where everything seems right as it should. A moment meant to be frozen and kept sacred in the mind’s eye, one to treasure.

Even after life began to shift back to normal, they were forever altered - and despite the difficulty and danger they’d weathered - for the better. After recuperating (much longer than she had wished, at Graham’s and her other friends’ insistence) Belle returned to her beloved library, helping anyone who stepped into her sanctuary find the story they sought. Graham eventually stemmed the flow of stifling overprotectiveness and desire to watch over his love at every moment, and returned to his post and duties as sheriff, taking care of the town that had become his home - the people in it more family than he had even been gifted by birth.

And though it might have been a reluctant parting at first, both of them rested in the assurance that either godmother they left their children with had successfully fought both villains and monsters, and would do so again for their young. If Emma had the day off from the station, she often took the twins out on the waves with Killian in his ship, their childish giggles and squeals showing signs of them coming to love the wind and waves almost as much as the trees and shadowed clearings of the forest. If Emma was working, Ruby or Granny were more than happy to entertain and look after Rose and Hunter. Ruby had been known to set them both on the diner counter in their car seats when she was hostess, making faces at them in play and allowing pretty much everyone in the town who entered Granny’s to fall in love with them. Or sometimes Granny would rock them gently, one in each arm, in an old rocker situated in the corner of her upstairs office. Though she had mostly recovered from Morgana’s attack, her older joints didn’t have the healing powers they had once possessed, and she simply couldn’t stay on her feet in the kitchens all day as she once had. She was more than pacified in her occasional relegation to the quiet room to keep the books and check tourists into the inn by the presence of the two little ones where she could have them all to her self and tell them old stories, just as she had once done for Ruby and Graham years ago.

And Emma… well, she and Killian understood quite well what would bring both their sheriff and librarian back to the service of their strange little fairy tale town in whatever way they felt called. The sense of belonging to and affection for a place both of them had once considered themselves “only passing through” or arrived in by mistake was uncannily right, all the way down to their sinew and bones. When Emma’s deputy shifts ended in the afternoon or early evening, she found herself with a wealth of options - more people to see and things to do than she would have ever imagined for herself. On days when she was finished by three, she sometimes strolled over to the school to meet Henry and her mother and walk to her parents’ loft with them for an afternoon snack - or if it was raining, she might pick them up in the Bug. Occasionally, she drove over to the animal shelter where her father was now office manager and spent time with her dad - the novelty of that, which she had wished for so often in her growing up years, never seemed to wear thin. Moreover as well as growing closer and closer to her dad, she was growing more and more tempted with each visit to adopt the large, saucy tomcat that always greeted her with his vocal purring as she arrived and reached her hand into his enclosure to stroke his sleek, beautifully striped fur and scratch behind his ears.

“Who’s a good boy?” she found herself crooning more often than not, to her dad’s chuckling over her shoulder.

“Oh, he is - and he knows it!” Prince Charming offered. “He’s been here nearly six months now. His owner trained him well - loved him and spoiled him rotten truthfully - but she passed away... Antonio, I believe she called him.”

Emma snorted, “Must have been a  _ Shrek _ fan,” she mumbled under her breath, now offering him gentle scritches under his chin.

“What’s that?” her dad asked, a puzzled tilt to his head.

“Oh, never mind,” Emma waved her hand. “Just another movie woven into this place with a tie to fairy tales, but I doubt you’ve seen it. The Puss in Boots character in it is voiced by an actor named Antonio.”

Her father chuckled, shaking his head at his own oblivious ignorance, long used to such occurences happening by that point. “Gotcha. Well, regardless, he definitely likes you, and he’d be good company. Plus, a good mouser on a pirate ship…?”

Emma cut her eyes to her father with a wry smile, both knowing what he was hinting at, and that he was digging for more info. “Subtle, Dad… real subtle.”

Yet it didn’t stop her from carrying said ‘mouser’ in her arms when she headed out that night as her dad locked up. The adoption paperwork was folded and stuffed into her back pocket, and she knew Killian would be equally as charmed by the handsome feline as she had been. Even as she and her father parted ways and she set off on her path to the docks, shaking her head at her own softheartedness, she knew that her wolf man would welcome her pet with open arms. He had even more of a weakness for lonely creatures in need of a home than she did.

The moonlight glittered off the dark waters of Storybrooke harbor, where the Jolly Roger was now permanently berthed. Pausing on the wooden planks of the dock, Emma gazed up at the ship, seeing her sailor standing on board, bathed in the ethereal glow and staring up at the stars overhead. His magnificent old ship had come to seem like her home too; she practically lived there with him for all intents and purposes. 

Something warm swelled within her chest as Killian turned at the sound of her approach and smiled down at her in welcome. “I’ve brought you a new recruit,” she offered playfully, stepping up to the gangplank where he could see the animal nestled happily in her arms.

“Well now, Lass,” Killian murmured, a pleased smile teasing at his firm, supple mouth as he took in the purring tabby. “It’s been some years since we’ve had a good mouser aboard the Jolly. He’s an admirable find for certain.” His wink along with the words made her blush, even with such a light and playful conversation.

Holding out his hand to help her aboard, Emma thrilled at the gentle pressure of her pirate’s fingers wrapped around her smaller ones. As she reached his side on deck, she leaned into Killian’s sturdy frame while his arms encircled her and his spicy scent enveloped her senses, the rightness of the moment and them together and their place in their world - home at long last - could not be any clearer. Their port was set, wherever they might sail.


End file.
